


The Bishop and a Knight (Leave the Board)

by bluestrawberryiii



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Complete, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff, M/M, Medium Burn, Mostly Canon Compliant, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), its kinda like a nice smooth downhill slide from academy fluff to war angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2020-09-07 11:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20308423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestrawberryiii/pseuds/bluestrawberryiii
Summary: Ferdinand and Hubert are caught on opposite sides of a war.(Alternatively: Whoops accidentally got attached to Ferdinand and then felt bad about separating him from his friends! Time to write a fic about it.)





	1. White Clouds; Great Tree Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally i was inspired by this tweet (https://twitter.com/LOVE_RIVALS/status/1162520079348596736?s=20). as you can see, this was SUPPOSED to be a wicked au. you can still see it if you squint, but it's definitely more its own thing now. but like? lads the tweet is good and i wanted to share it anyways

Students milled the monastery grounds, greeting old friends, making new ones, and getting acquainted with their new home. Not Ferdinand von Aegir. He made a beeline to the Black Eagle classroom, knowing that it was there he would find Lady Edelgard, heir to the Adrestian Empire, future recipient of his advice, and current rival. He straightened his cravat and smoothed his hair before entering the room, determined to make a good impression.

He found her and her ever-present shadow - what was his name again? - talking quietly against the back wall. As was proper, he cleared his throat to announce his presence before approaching. Both of them turned toward him.

Edelgard had grown since he’d last seen her, when he’d accompanied his father on one of his trips to the imperial palace in Enbarr. Her hair was longer now, her arms stronger. But her eyes remained the same: walled-up and flat.

And of course, it was impossible to miss that the shadow - Hugh? Hugo? - behind her had also grown. He was now a good six feet of lanky, menacing darkness. His dark hair fell in limp waves over his right eye - a fashion which suited neither him, nor his station.

“Lady Edelgard!” He extended his hand, smiling brightly and ignoring her shadow’s glare. “My name is Ferdinand von Aegir, son of the -”

Edelgard took his hand firmly. “The prime minister. Yes, I know him.” Her tone was closed; businesslike. “I was informed that we would be in the same class this year.”

“As was I! You know, long ago, our ancestors were rivals. It would be an honor to test my skill against yours.” He winked playfully. “...if you think you are up to the challenge, of course.”

Her shadow’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Perhaps,” said Edelgard. “When we have all settled in to life at school. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to meet some of the other students. Hubert?”

Hubert! Ferdinand silently thanked Edelgard for saving him from having to ask the imposing man himself.

“I will be right with you, Lady Edelgard,” said Hubert.

Edelgard frowned slightly, but left them alone in the room all the same.

As soon as she was gone, Hubert slammed him up against the nearest wall, looming over Ferdinand like a weighty shroud. His presence alone was suffocating. He glared at Ferdinand with his one snakelike eye. His hand was planted to the side of Ferdinand’s head, blocking his view of the exit. It was, in all, quite a rude way to greet someone.

“So. You think you and Lady Edelgard are rivals,” he said, voice dripping with venom.

Ferdinand fought to steady his voice. “Is that a problem?”

There was a soft grating sound against the wall as the hand next to his head curled into a fist. “Yes. A rivalry implies you are equals. And you. Are not. Equals.”

That’s what all this was about? Hubert was much too sensitive. “You are right. Perhaps I am better.” He smiled, but the look Hubert gave in return made him fear for his life. Ferdinand changed tack. “Look,” he said. “Hubert. My father is prime minister to the Adrestian Emperor, is he not? Which means I, too, will inherit that position. I will be expected to give Lady Edelgard advice and, if necessary, protect her.” He took a calculated risk and knocked Hubert’s hand aside. He needed to appear undeterred, and he was mostly confident that Hubert would not seriously maim a fellow classmate on the first day of school. Mostly.

Hubert’s hands clenched dangerously, but the one joined the other at his side and stayed there. Ferdinand suppressed a sigh of relief and continued. “If I am to provide quality advice, and good protection, should I not know how she fights? How she thinks? What better way to support her than to know of and make up for her weaknesses?”

“What better way to  _ betray _ her as well.” Hubert’s fingers twitched, bits of darkness sparking off the tips. Ferdinand tried not to focus on that. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten how your father got his position as prime minister?” Ferdinand opened his mouth to defend himself, but Hubert cut him off. “If I think that you have inherited even a  _ fraction _ of Duke Aegir’s treachery, I will not hesitate to ensure you disappear.”

“Disappear…?”

“My, you’re dense. I mean I’ll kill you.”

A chill ran up his spine. “Oh.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Hubert smiled. It was genuine, but in all the wrong ways. Like a snake that had just spotted a nest full of unattended eggs. He brought a hand up to brush some imaginary dust off of Ferdinand’s shoulder, and Ferdinand flinched. “Now, if we’re done here, I must be joining my lady. I look forward to seeing you in class, Ferdinand.”

He slid from the room, leaving Ferdinand to deal with his racing heart on his own. He lowered himself to the cool stone floor and took a deep, steadying breath.

“A death threat on the first day, huh?” he mumbled to himself. This Hubert fellow truly was a thoroughly unpleasant person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kabedon is still romantic if you’re threatening the person’s life while you do it right


	2. White Clouds; Blue Sea Moon

Edelgard leaned back from the table they’d set the map on, stretching the stiffness out of her back. “There aren’t any other things that Lonato would’ve thought worth targeting at the monastery, are there? We’ve been at this for hours.”

It was the closest she’d come to complaining, and Hubert knew she only did so because it was just the two of them in his dorm. “That’s all the information I was able to gather this morning, yes. I can go out and talk to more people, if you like.” Though most of them had been extremely close-lipped, for some reason.

She groaned. “No, it’s okay. We already have the rest of our house and Professor Manuela running around. You’ve done enough. You should rest.”

“Will  _ you _ be resting, Lady Edelgard?”

“No. I have other things to do today.”

“Then I see no reason why I should be lazing around.” Yes, his neck and shoulders hurt from leaning over the map for so long, and he was still recovering from their last mission, but the same could be said for Edelgard. He would not rest until she herself rested.

“Oh?” Her lips quirked into a wry smile. “Are you defying orders?”

“Was it an order?”

“I can make it one.”

“Then yes, I would defy it.”

Edelgard heaved a sigh and rose from her seat. “You do know that you can take time for yourself, don’t you? I won’t begrudge you an evening of rest.”

“Lady Edelgard, with all due respect, this  _ is _ the time I take for myself. I decided long ago that I would be your pawn for as long as you needed.”

“My pawn? Hubert, you undersell yourself.”

He bowed slightly. “Your bishop, then.”

“My bishop.” She smiled fondly, and Hubert found himself smiling as well. “Well, my bishop. I’m going to go get something to eat. Would you like to join me?”

“You go ahead. I’ll continue working on this month’s mission.”

She nodded, heading out into the hall. Just as the door closed, Hubert heard her say “Oh! Hello, Ferdinand.”

_ Ferdinand. _ Hubert took a deep breath, ready to follow Edelgard out into the hall and help her deal with this buffoonery.

“Yes, he’s inside his room,” Edelgard said. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you.” There was a laugh hiding behind her words; Hubert had never told her of his threat to Ferdinand on their first day, but it seemed she’d picked up on the tension between them all the same.

Her footsteps echoed down the hall, and then came the inevitable knock on his door.

“Hubert?” came Ferdinand’s voice. “I would like to speak with you. May I come in?”

“If you must.”

He did not turn towards Ferdinand when he came in.

“I hope this visit is because you have thoughts on the Western Church’s targets,” Hubert said.

“Well… yes and no. I would like to speak with you about your conduct.”

That got him to turn around. Ferdinand blanched under his gaze. But, to his credit, he stood his ground. “My conduct?” Hubert bit out.

“Yes,” said Ferdinand. “I assume you have noticed this, but you have a tendency to make people nervous.”

“It’s not my concern how I make people feel.”

“Even if it affects Edelgard?”

Hubert narrowed his eyes. “And what does that mean?”

“Broadly speaking, you run the risk of alienating her allies. You have threatened me, for one, and your presence alone sends poor Bernadetta running for the hills.”

“Anyone’s presence sends her running for the hills.”

“She will likely inherit control of House Varley,” Ferdinand insisted. “And it would do Edelgard well to have her allegiance. She cannot have that if Bernadetta cannot bring herself to stay in the same room as you.”

“Fair point.” He folded his arms, loath to admit it. “Where are you going with this?”

“While I was asking around about potential targets, I found there was much overlap between the people you and I spoke to.” He gave Hubert a hard look. “It seems you gave many people the impression that they were under suspicion themselves.”

“If you’re referring to Ashe, it’s only reasonable to suspect him. His father was the one that started this debacle.”

Ferdinand threw his hands up in exasperation. Though, if anyone had the right to be exasperated, it was Hubert. “He is in mourning! You killed his adoptive father with your own hands, and then a week later you accuse him of being part of a conspiracy he knew nothing about! How much information did you get out of him with that strategy?”

“None.”

“Exactly.” He smiled triumphantly. “But after I explained the situation to him, and assured him he was not a suspect, he quite readily informed me that he remembered Lonato being interested in the weapons held in the treasury.”

Hubert blinked. He shouldn’t have been as shocked as he was - Ferdinand had shown himself to be basically competent, especially in social matters. And yet, he’d never expected Ferdinand to succeed in an area where Hubert had so soundly failed. Perhaps this frivolous, poofy-haired idiot wasn’t so much of an idiot after all. “That is… quite impressive,” Hubert finally said.

The smile fell from Ferdinand’s face. “Beg pardon?”

“I said you did well. Are you going deaf?”

“No, it’s just…” Ferdinand shook his head. “It is a bit unnerving to hear a compliment from you, Hubert.”

Even his compliments made people nervous? He raised an eyebrow. “I could… insult you instead?”

“That is alright, Hubert.” He clapped a friendly hand on Hubert’s shoulder. It was a shocking display of familiarity that left Hubert stunned. Even Edelgard was rarely so casual with him. “I have said what I wanted to say. Has Edelgard been out investigating yet?”

“Yes.”

“Then I must take my leave. I cannot have her doing more than me. Farewell, Hubert!” He waved as he shut the door.

Despite himself, Hubert found himself waving back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry these first two chapters have been really short and also just like,, glorified support conversations?? things will start happening soon i promise. i have it all outlined okay i swear to god i know what im doing


	3. White Clouds; Blue Sea Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapters are getting longer! woo hoo!! (but that means longer times between updates which is less woo hoo)

Hubert found Ferdinand near the fishing pond, chatting with one of the blondes from the Blue Lions house.

“Ferdinand.” He came up behind him and clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder, just as Ferdinand had done the night before.

Ferdinand nearly jumped out of his skin. “Hubert!” he yelled, a bit louder than the occasion called for, and quite a bit higher-pitched than his voice normally was. Then he turned to face Hubert, hand to his heart. “Hubert, you startled me,” he said, now at a more reasonable volume.

“Apologies.” The shoulder clap hadn’t startled him when Ferdinand did it. Was Hubert’s technique off, or was it Hubert himself? “I was wondering if I could observe you today.”

Ferdinand’s brow furrowed, and his gaze flicked between Hubert and the girl. “Ob...serve…?”

“I thought about what you said the other day. I would like to learn to be more… sociable.”

Understanding lit Ferdinand’s eyes. “Ah. Well, you are in luck!” He threw an arm around Hubert’s shoulders and turned him towards the girl. “This is my new friend, Mercedes.”

Mercedes looked a bit bewildered by all of this, but she extended her hand all the same. “It’s nice to meet you, Hubert.”

Normally, he would’ve left her hanging. But he was determined to learn how to do this. For Edelgard’s sake. He shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, too.” The words felt strange in his mouth. Pleasantries were so distasteful.

“I was just about to walk her back to her classroom,” Ferdinand said. “Professor Byleth is starting their lecture in a few minutes.”

“Would you like to join us, Hubert?” Mercedes added.

Hubert nodded. He followed behind, listening to their conversation. Though he had been prepared to observe Ferdinand, he instead found himself captivated by Mercedes. Not in the traditional sense, of course. She was so plain that she might have faded into the background the second you stopped focusing on her. And it was precisely that which fascinated him. She lured Ferdinand in with her comforting non-presence, encouraged him with short nothings like “oh?” and “really?”, and Ferdinand spoke as freely as if he were writing in his own diary. Unfortunately, they parted ways at the door to the Blue Lions’ lecture hall before she could pull anything particularly interesting from Ferdinand.

“Are you going to join us today?” Professor Byleth called to Ferdinand.

Ferdinand waved. “Not this time, Professor! I have a previous engagement.”

As soon as they left, Hubert spoke up. “She was masterful.”

Ferdinand squinted at him. “Who?”

“Mercedes.” He wouldn’t forget the name, certainly not after this. “The way she all but pulled the thoughts from your head… Her methods are a bit time-consuming, but she would make a terrifying interrogator nonetheless.” In fact, he might have to speak to Edelgard about recruiting her. “Perhaps I should be observing her instead.”

“She was not interrogating me! We were having a conversation.”

“‘Conversation’ implies an exchange of ideas. She hardly said anything at all.”

“What! Of course she…” He stopped walking abruptly. “Oh.”

Hubert turned to face him. “What?”

“You are right, Hubert. Dominating that conversation as I did was ungentlemanly of me. I must apologize to her next time we meet.”

Hubert’s brow furrowed. “Are you saying she wasn’t doing it on purpose?”

“No!” Ferdinand began walking again, and Hubert followed. “The first rule of being sociable, Hubert, is that you do not start conversations with friends simply because you have an ulterior motive. Do you never have casual conversations with Edelgard?”

The most recent conversations he’d had with her had been strategic discussions, but… “Yes, we will occasionally share idle thoughts.”

“You see? Simply become more comfortable sharing those kinds of thoughts with others, and be willing to listen to theirs in turn… Do not make that face, Hubert, it is not that hard. Try it on me!”

Ferdinand had, of course, completely misinterpreted his grimace. It wasn’t that he thought it would be hard. He simply had no use for the idle thoughts of others, and he certainly had no use for anyone knowing his. But he had fought off his own father’s soldiers for Edelgard when he was merely a child. Surely he could learn to suffer through a few minutes of meaningless conversation for the sake of her political career. He looked around for a topic before his attention finally snagged on the dining hall. “Recently, the monastery began using coffee beans from a different region than normal. I preferred the old blend, but the new one isn’t half bad.”

“Really? I am not much of a coffee drinker myself. How can you tell the difference between blends?”

Hubert frowned. “Why do you care? You just said you don’t drink coffee.”

“Just because this information does not immediately serve me does not make it worthless. Sometimes it is simply nice to learn someone’s mind. And in my case, I am genuinely interested! If I knew more about coffee, I might be able to find a blend I like.”

“I see. There are many factors that go into the experience of a blend. I am partial to acidic and bitter blends. And of course, I take my coffee black. Though…” He paused, thinking. “If you don’t like coffee, I wouldn’t recommend any of this. You should consider something sweeter.”

“What a thoughtful answer! Perhaps one day you could point me towards a likely blend.” Ferdinand smiled, and Hubert warmed a fraction.

“Perhaps one day I could.” The idea didn’t seem quite as horrible as it once might have.

They spent the rest of the day surprisingly amicably, chatting with each other and asking around for more clues. Hubert was sent to speak with Hilda on his own, since Ferdinand reasoned it would take a lot more than a few menacing words to shake her. She didn’t run away screaming, but unfortunately she wasn’t helpful either.

“You did well!” Ferdinand told him as soon as they were safely away, continuing down the garden path. “And you did not let her rope you into doing her chores!”

“Is that normal?”

Ferdinand grimaced. “Unfortunately, yes.”

They passed through one of the gates leading onto the main road and ran into Edelgard. “Good afternoon, Ferdinand,” she said. “And… Hubert.” She gave him a look partway between confusion and concern, as if debating whether he needed rescue.

“Edelgard!” Ferdinand said. “I trust you have been having a relaxing day. We have been hard at work looking for potential targets.”

“I chose to join him,” Hubert added, hoping to put her at ease. “He’s been getting good results. I thought it would be worth my time to see how.”

“And we have been having a wonderful time!” Ferdinand pulled him into a jovial side-hug and Edelgard’s brows shot nearly up to her hairline. She looked to Hubert like she expected him to snap Ferdinand in half at any second. Hubert wasn’t sure why he hadn’t already. Ferdinand had become progressively bolder as the day wore on, showering him with physical affection as if they were old friends. It was all a bit more than Hubert was used to - neither he nor Edelgard were particularly physical people, and he didn’t have any other close friends. And yet, for some reason, he felt no particular need to make Ferdinand stop.

“Yes,” Hubert said, trying to convey all of this to Edelgard without actually voicing it. “A wonderful time.”

She gave him a long, searching look. “I’ll… leave you to it then. If you find anything else, I’ll be in the library.” She continued down the path, casting glances back their way every few seconds.

“Would you like to go with her?” Ferdinand asked, his tone hushed so that it was just for the two of them.

Hubert tore his eyes from her. “What?”

“You are used to spending your whole day with her. It must have been strange going this long without.” He waved his hand dismissively. “There is little left to learn from me today. Go along. I am sure she missed you as much as you missed her.”

Ferdinand was right. It felt strange having been away from Edelgard’s side for so long. “Perhaps I could join you tomorrow as well,” he suggested.

Ferdinand smiled, and there was that strange warmth again. “I would like that.”

* * *

“You two are friends now?” Edelgard asked once Hubert caught up to her. “Of all people, I wouldn’t have expected to see you with Ferdinand of your own free will.”

“Apologies. I know he’s been a bother to you. If you would prefer I didn’t -”

“Nonsense!” she interrupted. “Hubert, truly. Ferdinand can be annoying sometimes, but I still value him as a friend. And it makes me happy seeing you enjoy yourself! ...If that’s what you were doing, of course.”

“It was surprisingly not unpleasant,” he admitted. “I plan to help him investigate more tomorrow.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Edelgard said. He could tell she meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edelgard voice* hubert, blink twice if youre in danger


	4. White Clouds; Ethereal Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys werent invested in that western church subplot because it is GONE now. if you wanna see how that all pans out, youre gonna have to play the game yourself because ive got things to do, people to see, fics to write, etc

Preparations for the White Heron Cup were in full swing, and the whole student body was electrified with excitement. Everyone but Ferdinand, who was more queasy than anything.

Yesterday, he had spoken with Byleth about joining their class. Then, he had spoken with Manuela and Edelgard. By evening, he was officially a Blue Lion.

“Do you want me to tell Hubert?” Edelgard had offered.

“No,” he’d said. “I should do it.”

Stupid. Absolutely stupid. He pulled his scarf up around his face and thought about how little he wanted to do this. He’d been putting it off all morning, and now that he had gone for a morning walk, and eaten, and spent the entirety of breakfast agonizing across the table from Hubert, he had no excuse.

“You’ve been quiet today,” Hubert observed, and Ferdinand tried not to interpret it as an accusation.

“Aren’t you cold?” he deflected, voice slightly muffled by the scarf. Especially after the warm dining hall, the chill in the air was vicious. It was the dead of winter and Hubert hadn’t made a single change to his wardrobe. His hair whipped around in the winds that ripped through the breezeways and his cheeks and nose pinked up in the freezing air.

“No.”

“Ah.”

A breeze flew over the fishing pond and Ferdinand shivered. Hubert may not have been cold, but he was looking forward to getting back to the dorms. Maybe being back inside a warm room would make this easier. It wasn’t like he had done something wrong anyways, he reasoned. Switching classes did not mean switching allegiances, and surely it would be a benefit to Edelgard if he were to learn how to point a lance from a mercenary instead of an opera singer-turned-healer. And of course, if Byleth’s skill could give him an edge on Edelgard, then all the better. But Hubert didn’t need to know that last bit.

They passed the greenhouse and Hubert tried again. “Manuela is holding a mandatory dance tryout today.” He made a face. “The whole thing is a farce, obviously. She’s going to pick Dorothea as our representative regardless. But I was wondering if you would like to accompany me anyways.”

Ferdinand’s heart stuttered at the invitation. It was uncharacteristically friendly, and wholly unnecessary, considering the tryouts were mandatory.  _ Mandatory for Black Eagles students, _ he reminded himself. That distinction no longer applied to him. “I am afraid I will not be able to make it,” he said, after a pause that was just slightly too long.

Hubert‘s brow furrowed. Was it suspicion or confusion? “You’ve never been one to skip mandatory events.”

They’d reached the stairs.  _ Once you reach the top, you must tell him _ , Ferdinand told himself.  _ Once you reach the top, you  _ must _ tell him. _

He took the steps slower than he probably should have. What would Hubert do once he was told? Perhaps accuse him of betraying Edelgard? Of letting his rivalry control him? Ferdinand couldn’t help but think back to their first day. Hubert had threatened to kill him at the first hint of treachery. But surely he had proven himself trustworthy by now! He fancied that they had even become friends over these few months. Well. Ferdinand could only speak for himself. But he sincerely hoped that Hubert had come to enjoy his company as much as he did Hubert’s.

And yet...

And yet.

Hubert looked down at him from the second floor landing, brows pulled down in that ambiguous expression, eyes shadowed and menacing. “Is there something wrong?” he asked, his tone agonizingly neutral.

“I am fine,” he lied, stepping onto the threshold. He steeled himself. He didn’t want to do this. But breaking promises to oneself was the first step to breaking promises to others. “However, Hubert, I wanted to tell you something. Edelgard and Manuela already know, but I wanted to tell you myself.”

Hubert’s visible eyebrow cocked slightly upwards. “Go on.”

Ferdinand organized his main points. Byleth’s skills were more suited to what he wanted to learn. Alliances with Kingdom nobles would be valuable. This wasn’t a betrayal; it was hardly a change at all! He took a deep breath. “Starting Monday,” he said, “I will be attending classes with the Blue Lion house.”

There was a pause that went on for eternity. Ferdinand looked for any change in expression, any emotion one way or another. Somewhere far behind Ferdinand, a door opened and closed. Finally, Hubert spoke.

“I see,” he said.

“You see?” It wasn’t exactly the response he’d been expecting.

“Yes. I see.” He looked over Ferdinand’s head, in the direction of the approaching footsteps. “There’s your house leader,” he said. His tone was still completely without inflection. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

He left before Ferdinand could say a word, his long legs taking the steps down to the courtyard two at a time.

The approaching footsteps came to a halt behind him. “Is… everything okay?”

Ferdinand turned around. It was Dimitri. “Fine.” Once again, it was a lie. “Though a bit confused. I was not expecting him to take it so…” Well? Badly? He honestly didn’t know how it had gone. “Calmly,” he finally settled on.

“Were you expecting him to incinerate you on the spot?”

He knew that rumors of Hubert’s temperament stretched beyond the Black Eagles. If he were being honest with himself, incineration had been alarmingly high on the list of possible outcomes. But for some reason, hearing someone outside his house - his  _ old _ house, he corrected himself - say that about Hubert made him bristle. “He would not do that,” he insisted.

Dimitri didn’t seem convinced. “I’m sorry,” he said anyways. “That was a bad jest. I know you two are close.”

Close? Ferdinand supposed it could seem that way. He did spend much of his time with Hubert, though he didn’t know him half as well as he would like. As had just been proven. “Where were you planning on going?” he asked, desperate to bring the topic back to comfortable ground. “It is a bit late for breakfast.”

“Actually, I was on my way to look for you.”

Ferdinand blinked. “For me?”

“Yes.” A flush steadily rose from Dimitri’s cheeks, up to his hairline. “It’s... a bit embarrassing. Could we go somewhere private?”

“Yes, of course,” he said, almost on instinct. He led Dimitri into his room, a thousand questions swirling in his mind. What was wrong? Was it serious? Why was it embarrassing? Why go to Ferdinand specifically? He held the door open for Dimitri and offered him the single chair, taking the bed for himself. Once they were alone and appropriately settled, he asked “What can I do for you? I can brew us some tea, if you like.”

“No need.” He sat at the edge of the chair, back ramrod straight. “I feel bad for asking this of you. After all, you haven’t known me that long.”

“Whatever it is, I am happy to help,” Ferdinand insisted. “After all, it is a noble’s duty to help those in need, is it not?” And, he added a bit guiltily to himself, helping Dimitri would no doubt take his mind off of Hubert’s mystifying response.

Dimitri chuckled, and Ferdinand was glad to see him relax a fraction. “Thank you, Ferdinand.” He took a breath and pursed his lips; Ferdinand couldn’t help but lean forward, desperate to know what sent the crown prince of Faerghus running to him, of all people. “You see…” He paused again, as if steeling himself. “...I have been chosen as our house’s representative for the White Heron Cup.”

“Congratulations, Your Highness!” he said. “So what seems to be the problem?” Perhaps he had injured himself? Or maybe he’d already made plans for during the competition.

He grimaced. “Please call me Dimitri. And that  _ is _ the problem, unfortunately. I am a terrible dancer.”

“You? But you’re a prince! Surely you must have been taught!”

“I was.” There was a fond smile, though it was gone in a flash. “In a way.” He slumped back into the chair. “But I’ve always had two left feet; none of the lessons ever stuck. I told the professor not to pick me, but I daresay they have a bit of a sadistic sense of humor.” He looked pleadingly up at Ferdinand. “I beg of you, please teach me to dance. I don’t need to win, I just need to do well enough not to embarrass myself. I don’t know who else I can go to.”

“No one else?” Ferdinand frowned, puzzled. “I accept, of course. But surely you don’t mean to say that nobody in the Blue Lions house can dance?”

“They can!” he said. Then, after a moment’s thought, “Well, no. Dedue only knows dances from Duscur. Felix won’t talk to me. Ashe, Annette, Ingrid, and Mercedes are either clumsy or inexperienced. And I’m sure Sylvain knows, but I don’t know if I trust his technique to be…” He paused for a moment, as if searching for the right word. “...appropriate for polite company.”

“I see,” Ferdinand said. Though all he really saw was the truly deplorable state of noble education in Faerghus.

Dimitri sighed. “But that isn’t the problem, really. Unfortunately, most of my classmates view me as apart from them, thanks to my status. I can’t help but think it would be uncomfortable to find their future king lacking such a basic skill. But you’re from the Empire.” The pleading look was back again. “You’re as close to a neutral party as I have.”

“In that case, I would be more than happy to help you prepare.” As a noble, he understood that power alienated one from those with less. For Dimitri to have only two true peers in the entire world must be quite a burden. “Help me move the table, and then we can begin.”

Once they’d cleared out the middle of the room, Ferdinand positioned them in the center. “You will be expected to lead,” he said. “So your hands should be here and here.” He laced his fingers with Dimitri’s on one side and guided his hand downwards until it rested just above his hip, before moving his own hand to Dimitri’s shoulder. “We will start with a simple box step.”

Dimitri nodded, gazing intently down at their feet as Ferdinand called out their movements. Forward, forward, together. Back, back, together. Forward, forward, together. It would have been a hypnotizing rhythm, had Dimitri been joking about having two left feet. Alas, for all his coordination in battle, something about moving in a pattern to a beat eluded him. They worked at it for most of the day, occasionally stopping for food or class or for Dimitri to check to make  _ absolutely sure _ that Ferdinand was okay with helping a lost cause like him. And though Ferdinand was beginning to agree that Dimitri might, in fact, be a lost cause, he was also sure to impress upon Dimitri how happy he was to help.

“Surely you have something better to do,” Dimitri said between sips of tea. Ferdinand had finally insisted upon it after dinner. “Not that I’m not grateful!” he quickly amended. “But I’m used to seeing you busier than this.”

“Ah.” He took a sip of his own tea, stalling for time. He had chosen a nice, calming chamomile, since he figured a little extra calm might help Dimitri learn better. At the moment, a little extra calm would go a long way for him as well. “If I am being honest, helping you - while fun - has been quite a convenient excuse. I think I am avoiding Hubert today.” Avoiding his problems wasn’t the most noble thing he had ever done, but he didn’t take Dimitri as one to judge.

Dimitri set his cup down, brows pulled together in concern. “Does it have anything to do with this morning?”

“It does. I do not know why, but his response bothered me. I hoped he might support me changing houses. I expected him to accuse me of treason…”

Dimitri nearly choked. “Treason?”

He waved his concern away. “Or something similar. But the point is that he did none of that. He just said ‘I see’ and walked off!”

“Isn’t that good? It’s better than being accused of treason.”

“Well, yes.” It was better than being accused of treason, or threatened, or any number of things that Hubert was wont to do. But it felt  _ wrong _ for some reason. “I think I wanted…” What  _ had _ he wanted? Enthusiasm would have been nice, though that was a long shot with Hubert. Anger was less desirable, but Ferdinand found he would have preferred it to what he got. “I just wanted  _ something. _ ‘I see’ is not something.”

“It isn’t,” Dimitri agreed, taking a sip of tea.

“It’s hardly a full response!”

“Hardly.”

“And I don’t know what to do about it,” he concluded with a huff.

Dimitri drained the last few drops from his cup before replying. “You care quite a bit about what Hubert thinks of you.”

The way he said it made it sound like a question, but Ferdinand wasn’t sure what that question was. He stayed silent, and Dimitri continued.

“I will do whatever I can to help you,” he said, standing up. “It’s the least I can do after you gave me your whole day.”

“It was freely given,” Ferdinand interjected.

Dimitri stopped him with an upraised hand. “As is this. I cannot stand by while one of my friends is feeling troubled.”

The curfew bell rang out, and Dimitri’s smile turned sheepish. “I must go,” he said. “Thank you for your time, and for the tea. And I swear to you, Ferdinand. If I have anything to say about it, you and Hubert will have reconciled before the end of the ball!”

“Why the ball?” Ferdinand asked. But Dimitri had already slipped out of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways now might be a good time to admit to my dimitri bias.  
also did you know? this is the ONLY fic in the dimitri&ferdinand tag and i think that is unacceptable. i got really invested in them being friends while writing this and now im sad that they dont have any content :( everyone go write some diminand right the HECK now


	5. White Clouds; Ethereal Moon

The rest of the week, Ferdinand split his time between afternoon classes, evening dance lessons with Dimitri, and fretting in the interim.

It was during his late-afternoon fretting the day before the ball that he decided: if he was to reconcile with Hubert by the end of the ball - an odd deadline, but one he was becoming attached to - he could not do it empty handed. He needed a gift for Hubert. Something he would like. But what _ did _ he like? He liked Edelgard, but that was hardly helpful. Ferdinand combed through every conversation he’d ever had with Hubert, but the man was frustratingly unenthusiastic about most everything; if he had any interests besides serving Edelgard and his strange, dark sense of humor, he didn’t seem particularly interested in sharing them.

And then it hit him. _ Coffee. _ It was the one interest that Ferdinand could think of that wasn’t some nebulous concept. Coffee was something that could be put into a bag and handed from one person to another.

He rushed to the dining hall, remembering that Hubert had liked their previous blend. Unfortunately, though not surprisingly, they didn’t have any of it left. Ferdinand thanked the chef on duty for her trouble and began running through all the places where he might procure some coffee within the next twenty-four hours. He didn’t know of anyone else who liked it - Linhardt probably should drink it, but Ferdinand had never seen him do so; Edelgard might have access to some, but only because Hubert was sure to share his own supply with her. He could not gift Hubert his own coffee.

Perhaps Professor Byleth would have something. They were always spending their stipend on strange knickknacks. He ran back to the classroom, where they were still grading a couple tests, thank the goddess.

“Good afternoon, Professor!” he said, still a bit flushed from all the rushing across campus.

Byleth looked up at him.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” he continued. “A trifle, really. And I promise to pay you back.”

They cocked their head.

“I was wondering if you had any coffee on hand? Not the blend from the dining hall, though. Something different.”

Finally, Byleth set down their pen. “I have some in my room,” they said, scooping the ungraded papers into their arms and gesturing for Ferdinand to follow.

“Do you need any help with those papers?” he asked, trotting to match Byleth’s gait. They were shorter than him, and yet they walked with such purpose that it was always a challenge to keep up.

“I’m fine,” they said.

At the very least, Ferdinand was allowed to open the door to the professor’s room.

They dropped the papers in a pile on the desk before making a beeline to the cabinets in the back. “What kind do you want?”

“Uh.” What kind _ did _ he want? “Do you have the blend the dining hall used to have?”

Byleth shook their head.

Well. That was about all he had prepared.

Byleth fixed him with a piercing look. “Do you even drink coffee?” they asked.

“No.” Hubert had said what he preferred in coffee, Ferdinand was sure of it. What had it been?

“Is it a gift for someone, then?” Byleth asked.

He choked. “No!” he said, before he could think. Byleth raised an eyebrow and Ferdinand frowned. Why had he denied it? Getting a gift for a friend was hardly a crime. “Well… As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Who?” Their face lit up. “I might be able to help.”

He didn’t doubt it. Byleth had a reputation for giving uncannily personal gifts. “Hubert.”

Their face fell just as quickly. “I don’t know him that well.”

“He is not very sociable,” Ferdinand agreed. “Though he has been getting better. I - oh!”

“Oh?”

“Bitter!” he said. “I remember him saying he liked bitter coffees. Bitter and…” He paused, thinking. It didn’t sound right - didn’t even sound pleasant - but… “Acid? Is that something desirable in coffee?”

Byleth nodded, turning away to sift through their cabinets before finding something. They handed it to Ferdinand. “It’s a blend from the Valley of Torment,” they said. “Bitter, acidic, tastes just a bit charred.”

Ferdinand opened the bag, and was assaulted by what felt very much like a punch in the nose. He could feel his heart galloping unpleasantly just from proximity to it. “Oh, that is noxious!” he exclaimed, pulling the drawstrings closed once more. “It is probably perfect. Thank you, Professor. What do I owe you?”

They waved his offer away. “Just keep doing well in class, and I’ll be happy.”

“Thank you, Professor,” he said. Then, again, “Thank you so much. I promise, I will be your best student for the rest of the year!”

“We’ll see about that,” Byleth said. They ushered him out of the room, though they were smiling.

* * *

It was the night of the dance, and Ferdinand was fussing in front of the mirror more than was strictly necessary. He had straightened his cravat at least twenty times, noticed and tucked away a hundred insignificant flyaway hairs, and analyzed the shape of his eyebrows for at least an eternity. Not for the first time, he wished he had all the trappings of his home available to him. At the Aegir estate, he had access to a wide variety of clothing, as well as a slew of servants to help him with anything he needed - which was never much. But still. All he had now was his school uniform, a mirror, and his own two hands. He felt woefully unprepared.

A knock on the door startled him from his thoughts. “Ferdinand!” Dimitri called. “Are you coming? The ball is starting soon.”

“Yes! Yes, I’m coming,” he said, checking himself one last time in the mirror and grabbing the bag of coffee before bursting out the door. He nearly slammed into Dedue.

“In a hurry, are we?” Dimitri asked, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. “What’s that you have?”

“What? Oh.” He handed Dimitri the bag. “Coffee.”

“For Hubert?” he asked. He opened the bag, only to reel back immediately. “Oh, goddess above!”

Dedue took the bag from Dimitri and gave it an exploratory sniff. “Where did you get this blend?” he asked, handing it back. “It’s good.”

As soon as it was back in his hands, Ferdinand drew it closed to quarantine the smell. He couldn’t help the disbelieving look on his face as he looked up at Dedue. “I got it from the professor. It was grown in the Valley of Torment.”

Dedue nodded, thoughtful.

“That’s fitting,” Dimitri said. “I think he’ll like it.”

“I do not understand it, but I hope he does.”

They walked together through the crisp night. Dimitri was fidgeting nervously with the hem of his cape, a sick look on his face. Ferdinand was glad for the opportunity to distract himself from his own nervousness.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, bumping his shoulder against Dimitri’s. “You have improved greatly.”

He calmed a fraction. “You think so?”

“I do.” It was the truth, too: Dimitri had gone from a hopeless tangle of limbs and dangerously clumsy footwork to someone who could pull off most basic dance moves, and even - on occasion - a spin or two. He wouldn’t be winning any awards, but thankfully, that had never been the goal.

The reception hall, when they got to it, was lit with a friendly golden glow. It was warm, and the air was filled with chatter and the smell of spiced cider.

“Dimitri, dear!” Manuela exclaimed. “You made it! The competition is about to start.”

Dimitri was dragged away from his two friends, the sick look clawing its way back to the surface. He was placed next to the other two candidates, Hilda and - as Hubert had predicted - Dorothea.

It seemed she deserved the nomination, though. Not that there had been any doubt in Ferdinand’s mind. She went last, blowing away the other performances like so much dust. Graceful, strong, and tinged with an operatic flair from her previous career, she easily won.

As soon as he was released, Dimitri rushed back to Ferdinand and Dedue. “She was amazing, wasn’t she?” he asked. “Even I hardly remember my own performance; I’m certain everyone else forgot as well. I must go and thank her.” And then he disappeared again, leaving Ferdinand standing on the sidelines with the very quiet Dedue.

He found himself looking out over the crowd, standing on tip-toes to try and catch a glimpse of dark hair and deathly pale skin. The coffee felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket.

“He’s at the other end of the hall,” Dedue suddenly said, and Ferdinand nearly jumped.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re looking for Edelgard’s vassal, yes?” He nodded in the right direction. “He’s over by that corner.”

“Oh.” Ferdinand tried to spot him, but he couldn’t quite get himself up to Dedue’s level. “I guess I will… mingle, then. Thank you.”

Dedue inclined his head, and then Ferdinand was swallowed up by the partygoers.

It was more crowded than the parties he was used to at home. While those were exclusive events held in the Aegir manor’s ballroom, this was a party with twice the people in half the space. It wasn’t quite bad enough that he couldn’t maneuver, but it was certainly enough that, when he was finally spat back out near the punch bowl, he was shocked by how little progress he had made.

Pouring himself a shallow cup as an excuse, Ferdinand leaned himself back against the wall and scanned the crowd, paying special attention to corners and pockets of darkness.

Finally, he spotted him. Hubert was standing in the far corner, arms crossed, watching the dance floor intently. Edelgard was in the center, dancing with practiced poise. A bit stiff, though, Ferdinand found himself thinking. Did he dance that stiffly? He didn’t think he did.

“Ferdie!”

He nearly choked on his drink.

“How are you?” Dorothea asked, sliding onto the wall next to him. “I’ve missed you dearly.”

“Oh? I thought you hated me.” He had never understood why she hated him so much in the first place; it drove him mad that she wouldn’t let him fix it. For a moment, he let himself hope that maybe, somehow, she had changed her mind.

“Oh, I still hate you,” she said, dashing that hope like driftwood against a rocky shore. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t also miss you! Well, I miss how you affected certain other people in our class.”

Hubert had moved from his corner, skirting along the wall to account for Edelgard’s position on the dance floor. “I am afraid I do not understand, Dorothea,” Ferdinand said.

She followed his gaze. “You’re kidding. You’re not serious, are you?”

“I would like to think my presence kept Edelgard on her toes, but I doubt that is what you are referring to.”

“Incredible.” Dorothea huffed out a laugh. She poured herself a drink. “Anyways, what are you doing here, Ferdie?”

“Talking to you? Drinking punch?” He wasn’t sure what she wanted from this.

“I mean, why aren’t you over there, talking to him?”

His heart clenched. “I am… not sure who you are talking about,” he lied. Was it a lie? She hadn’t specified who; maybe he just didn’t want to make assumptions.

“Ugh!” Dorothea pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes shut tight in frustration. “Ferdie, you can’t possibly be this dense. Hubie has been moping around ever since you left -”

“Hubert can mope?”

“Considering the observational skills you’ve displayed tonight, I wouldn’t expect you to have noticed. But yes, he’s been moping, in his own way. He didn’t even smile when Caspar pulled a muscle doing some idiot stunt! But anyways.” She swirled the drink in her hand, watching the spices collect on the bottom and circle around each other. “I know you want to talk to him. You’ve been sending Dimitri over to grill Edelgard on what he likes, how he feels…”

Ferdinand coughed. “I’m sorry, he’s been doing what?”

“Not in so many words,” Dorothea said, waving her hand dismissively. “My point is, stop being a coward. You’re so obsessed with how superior nobles are -”

“I am not!”

“ - but you’re scared of talking to one guy, which doesn’t seem very noble to me. Just get over there!”

He looked back over to Hubert. He was right where he’d been last. But Ferdinand couldn’t bring himself to move. He needed a plan. He didn’t have a plan. He hadn’t talked to Hubert for a week. Were they fighting? Should he apologize? For leaving the Black Eagles? For avoiding him for a week? Both? Neither?

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Dorothea said. “Look, I’ll even hold your drink.” She plucked the glass out of his hands, then drank the whole thing for good measure. “There. No excuses. Now go talk to him.” She pushed him towards Hubert.

He stumbled forward, and in that moment, Hubert glanced his way. Their eyes met, and Ferdinand’s heart stopped. There was no turning back now. He straightened. Walked forward.

“Hello,” Hubert said, once he got close enough. It was strictly professional.

“Hello,” Ferdinand responded, equally professional.

They stood, then, not speaking. It was not an easy silence.

“How have you been?” Ferdinand finally asked.

“Fine,” he said. Then, “How is your new house treating you? Your house leader has been skulking around Lady Edelgard so much, I can’t imagine you see him very often.”

Ferdinand flushed, knowing those visits had probably been largely for his benefit. “It is fine. I miss seeing all of you, though.” He took a breath, then plunged in headfirst before he could stop himself. “You. In particular.”

For a moment, Hubert didn’t speak. There was an unfamiliar look on his face, but it was quickly covered back up. “That’s funny,” he said. “I haven’t seen you in days.”

The indifference with which he said it hit harder than Ferdinand thought it should have. Wasn’t it good that his absence hadn’t hurt? “I am sorry about that. I thought you might not want to talk to me. Now that I’ve changed houses.”

Hubert frowned down at him. “I’m… not sure why you would think that. I…” He paused, like he was chewing on the words. “I enjoy your company.” There was an even longer pause. Ferdinand almost thought Hubert had finished speaking, but he started up again at the last minute, words stumbling together in their rush to get out. “I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise.”

Ferdinand was stunned. An apology? From Hubert? “Nothing to worry about,” he said. “I am just glad to have cleared the air.”

More silence. The music changed tempo and the dance sped up. For a moment, as she twirled from one partner to the next, Edelgard caught the two of them standing together. She shot them what seemed suspiciously like a glare.

“What was that about?” Ferdinand wondered aloud. “She is not mad at me, is she?”

“No. That wasn’t for you.” Hubert sighed, and ran an agitated hand through his bangs. “Ferdinand, would you like to join me outside for a moment?”

“I - Yes. Yes, of course.”

He trailed behind Hubert along the edges of the crowd, bracing himself as they slipped out the giant double doors into the chill night air.

The doors muted the sound as soon as they were closed. All the music, laughter, and chatter subdued to a quiet buzz. They were alone. Hubert led them to one of the benches near the gazebo. Ferdinand threw an arm over the back of the bench, angling himself so that he could face Hubert directly. But Hubert kept himself facing forward, eyes studying his hands in his lap.

He almost seemed nervous.

It was unnerving.

“I have something for you,” Ferdinand said, to save them both.

Hubert’s head jerked up, and his eyes narrowed. It looked like suspicion, but Ferdinand thought it was probably simple curiosity. “Oh?”

He pulled out the bag of coffee. “It is from the Valley of Torment,” he said.

Hubert opened the bag, and the smell went straight to Ferdinand’s head again. He felt giddy, his heart racing.

“Is this a light or dark roast?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Never mind.” Hubert slipped the bag into his pocket. “Thank you, Ferdinand. I don’t know how you knew, but this is one of my favorite blends.”

This time, his racing heart had nothing to do with the coffee. “It was nothing, really! I just remembered what you said about what coffee you liked and went from there.”

“You’re… very kind, Ferdinand.”

“Thank you?” An apology and a compliment, all in one night? It didn’t feel right. He hoped Hubert wasn’t dying. “Is that what you called me out here to say?”

“In a way.”

He waited for Hubert to continue, but he seemed to have no intentions of doing so. “In a way?” he prompted.

Hubert breathed in. He breathed out. He laced his fingers together and then unlaced them. “Ferdinand,” he finally said. “I find myself becoming… interested. In you.”

That was all? “Well, yes. I assumed you would not allow me to hang around you otherwise.”

“No, Ferdinand, I -” He turned towards him for the first time, bringing his hand up to cup Ferdinand’s cheek. The contact made Ferdinand’s skin buzz. Had Hubert ever initiated contact like this? His gaze was intense. Intent. “I’m _ interested _ in you.”

It took a moment to slot into place. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Hubert’s hand snatched away, as if burned. He stood up, just as abruptly. “You’re right. Sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you with my feelings.”

He was already halfway to the gate by the time Ferdinand could catch up with this latest emotional turn.

“Hubert, wait!” He ran after him, grabbing Hubert’s hand and jerking him to a stop. Hubert looked down at him, obviously struggling to wipe the expression from his face. He hadn’t quite gotten all of it, though. There was a pained twist to his mouth, but it faded as he looked down at their hands, then back up.

“I’m interested in you too,” Ferdinand said, watching the way Hubert’s eyes widened a fraction. “Romantically speaking.”

For a moment, Hubert just stared - his mouth opened, then shut again. His gaze fell to their clasped hands, and his face turned bright red.

“I -” he finally said. His voice was dry and faint. “Thank you.” Then, “I have to go.”

He all but sprinted towards the dormitories. This time, Ferdinand let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slaps huberts heart* if this puppy feels more than two emotions at the same time, it crashes faster than adobe animate


	6. White Clouds; Pegasus Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow sorry about the delay. i heard a song on the internet and suddenly decided i needed to read all of frankenstein Right Now. but im back now!!
> 
> (also this chapter is dedicated to panntherism, aka That One Sylvix Mutual on twitter that will not stop going wild about chess on my tl)

Hubert set a pair of coffee cups on either side of the chess board. He had to shift aside his collection of captured pieces to make room for his cup. Unfortunately, Ferdinand didn’t have the same problem. He had captured so few of Hubert’s black pieces that there was no shortage of space on his side.

That meant the cream and sugar also found a home on Ferdinand’s side. It was just as well, since he was the only one that used them.

“How is it?” Hubert asked, leaning slightly forward in expectation.

Ferdinand took a sip. He considered a moment, before pouring what he knew Hubert considered an “unnecessary” amount of cream and sugar into his coffee. He took some amusement in the pained look that flitted across Hubert’s face as he raised the cup to his lips. “Better now.”

“That’s hardly even coffee anymore,” Hubert grumbled, taking a sip of his own - black, unsweetened - coffee. “It’s more like flavored milk.”

Since the dance, they’d been meeting up for coffee every day after dinner. Their goal was to find something that Ferdinand could handle; so far they’d narrowed it down to sweeter, milder blends. The blend today was a “blonde roast” - though he didn’t quite understand what that meant - from the southernmost island of Brigid. He was still a bit overwhelmed by the strong _ coffee _ taste, but Ferdinand was proud that he could now pick out slight differences between blends. “I think we’re getting closer,” he said, mixing in a hint more sugar, just to see that look on Hubert’s face again. “I am enjoying the fruity undertones in this one.” He took another sip. “And there is a hint of chocolate, which is quite nice.”

Hubert quirked his eyebrow. “I’m impressed you could pick all that out. Especially after you’ve smothered it.”

“I have a very refined palate.”

“Apparently.” For a split second, Hubert’s gaze flicked to Ferdinand’s lips, before tearing away again. “Anyways. It’s your turn.”

With a sigh, Ferdinand looked back down to the board. It was a bit depressing how soundly he’d been overtaken: within a few turns, he’d lost a handful of pawns, a knight, both his bishops, and, in an astoundingly stupid move, his queen. He’d been hovering in and around check for the past three moves, and he knew it was only a matter of time before it turned to mate. He moved a pawn in between his king and Hubert’s remaining rook.

Hubert’s bishop crossed the board, taking out the newly moved pawn.

“You seem to favor that piece,” Ferdinand said, moving his remaining knight to protect the king.

For a moment, Hubert’s expression closed off. Then it was gone. “I’ve become… attached to it, I suppose.” He brought his queen into play. “Check.”

“You’re attached to a chess piece?” Ferdinand moved his king behind the knight, though he knew it was only prolonging his fate. He had no daring gambit planned, no last-minute strategy; this was a losing game, and they both knew it. “Why?”

The ghost of a wistful smile slipped onto his face. “Just a conversation Edelgard and I had once.”

“Ah, of course.”

“Checkmate.”

“What!?”

Hubert repeated the move for Ferdinand: his bishop took Ferdinand’s knight, leaving the king wide open. Ferdinand moved his king around, confirming that his escape was, indeed, cut off on all ends. Sighing, he toppled the piece in surrender. 

“You have won every match this week!” he complained, draining the last of his coffee-milk as Hubert cleared away the board. “I cannot be _ that _ bad at chess, can I?”

“You do just fine against most everyone else. Even Edelgard.” The admission made Ferdinand swell with pride. “You’re just too straightforward.”

“I do not see what you mean.”

“You’re too rigid in your thinking, which makes you predictable. You never think to let your pawns capture anything big -”

“Their restricted movement does not make them very helpful.”

“I captured your queen with a pawn.”

Ferdinand indulged himself in a sulky pout. “Touché.”

“And you always put your most powerful pieces in harm’s way to protect other pieces. Your king has no business being halfway across the board. Ever.”

“If I hadn’t moved him, I would have lost my knight.”

“Then lose it,” Hubert snapped, with a bit more intensity than Ferdinand thought was warranted. “The life of a knight is not worth endangering your king.”

“By the saints, Hubert!” He collected first his cup, then Hubert’s, handing them over to him. “You are downright mercenary. I suppose I could learn a thing or two from you.”

For a moment, he paused, thoughtful. “You could, if you wanted to win. But I think your strategy is honorable, if not practical.” His voice dropped, and his next words were too soft to hear.

“Come again?”

“I said that I like it about you.” He sounded like he was choking on each and every word. “It’s… endearing.”

Now it was Ferdinand’s turn to choke. “Hubert! I did not know you knew such a word!” It had sounded like an insult the way he’d said it, but Ferdinand knew he hadn’t had much practice with compliments.

“Be quiet.” Hubert turned away from him.

“Where did you find it?” Ferdinand tried to duck around Hubert, but he was swatted away.

“Leave me alone.”

He tried again, this time dodging the hand long enough to catch sight of Hubert’s face. He’d gone red. “Have you been reading those books that Manuela leaves lying around?”

“Stop!” He shoved Ferdinand away again, but this time with just the right amount of force to send him stumbling backwards. Ferdinand took one step back, then another, trying to right himself. His knees caught against the back of the bed frame, and he fell onto the mattress with a soft yelp.

For a moment, neither of them moved. They stared at each other from across the room, eyes wide.

“I -” Ferdinand started to say, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Hubert?” came Edelgard’s voice from the hall, followed by her peeking her head through the door. “I was wondering if -” Her eyes hit on Ferdinand and she froze.

Ferdinand wondered how this might look to her. Here he was, on the bed, his clothing and hair most likely in disarray from being tossed. And there was Hubert standing over him, red in the face, still breathing hard from the exertion of throwing Ferdinand.

She looked between them. “Am I…?”

“I should be going!” Ferdinand announced. “I must be well-rested for the ceremony tomorrow, after all! Good night, Edelgard! Thank you for the coffee, Hubert!” He burst past Edelgard, hurrying back to his own room.

* * *

“He was going quite a lovely shade of red, don’t you think?” Edelgard observed, closing the door behind her. “I assume you haven’t told him what we’ll be doing while Professor Byleth receives their revelation?”

“I don’t see why I would.”

Edelgard leveled him with a stern look. “Hubert, you understand that we’ll most likely have to fight Dimitri’s class tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“The class that Ferdinand is part of?”

“Yes.”

“I would think,” she said, slowly, “that you might want to get him out of harm’s way.”

In truth, there was nothing he wanted more. Ferdinand was the only thing, outside of Edelgard, that he truly cared for. Spending time with him had been an indulgence, some rare thing that wasn’t for Edelgard or her vision; it was just for him. But for all of the selfish enjoyment he’d let himself have from their time together, that’s all it was: frivolous, selfish, fleeting. He’d always known he might have to fight Ferdinand, if Edelgard’s plan required it.

“Did you even say goodbye to him?”

“If I’d let on there was anything amiss, he might have pieced it together.” And he hadn’t wanted their last hours together tainted by anything. He’d wanted one last peaceful, selfish, _ simple _ evening.

“Would that be so bad? Perhaps he would join us. Isn’t he still set on being my prime minister?”

“He has very set ideas of how things should be done. I don’t want to stake our success on someone as… emotional as Ferdinand.”

“You do know him best,” Edelgard conceded. “I will trust your judgement.” She grasped his forearm. “But I know he means a lot to you.” It bothered Hubert how obvious it had been. “I would understand, if you wanted to sit out the battle tomorrow.”

He stiffened. “Absolutely not. I will not leave you unguarded. Nothing I may or may not want will ever come before your safety.” How could she even think that was an option?

Her grip tightened. “Thank you, Hubert, for your loyalty.” She smiled sadly. “Even though it comes at a great cost, I cannot help being glad that you’ll be by my side tomorrow.”

“Of course, Lady Edelgard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> completely unrelated to anything but two chapters ago i begged for more dimitri&ferdinand content and then metallic_sweet, like an angel sent from on high to answer my pleas, started posting some really good ones. yall should! definitely read them!!!


	7. White Clouds; Pegasus Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ferdinand says "damn" _twice_ in this chapter, so you already KNOW shits gonna hit the fan
> 
> (also just some housekeeping but i overhauled the tags. just a heads up in case youve been like... keeping track of this fic by constantly reloading one of my tags' pages and praying? instead of just subscribing?? i dunno man i dont know your life)

The day of the ceremony, the Blue Lions were essentially useless. Annette chattered throughout lecture, and Mercedes couldn’t stop staring off into space. Even the students who wouldn’t normally be distracted by Annette couldn’t seem to focus. Byleth only got through a half hour of wandering eyes, fidgeting hands, and woefully wrong answers before they released the class early for the day.

Ferdinand was, of course, just as excited as his classmates. He was a bit disappointed he would miss his nightly visit with Hubert - they’d been getting better and better coffees, and he was excited to see what Hubert found next. But it was a great honor to witness a revelation from the goddess herself. And after all, he had the rest of the year to spend his evenings with Hubert. Perhaps longer, since they would both work under Edelgard once they left the academy.

They gathered in the cathedral after dinner. Annette was practically vibrating with excitement, and most of the other Lions weren’t far behind.

Rhea joined them at the door to the Holy Tomb. She threw open the doors, and all the students crowded around to look inside.

Felix was the first to say something.

“That’s it?” he asked, before being jabbed in the ribs by Ingrid.

It  _ was _ a bit underwhelming, though. They all filed through the doors into a plain circular room, no bigger than their classroom. The doors slammed shut behind them, leaving them in total darkness. To Ferdinand’s right, Ashe let out a soft squeak.

Then the floor beneath them started to sink, and it was more than just Ashe protesting.

It seemed like they were falling, down, down, down, until Ferdinand was certain they were deep within the belly of the mountain Garreg Mach was built upon. Then, at the edges of the floor, a sliver of bluish-green light cracked through, ringing around their feet. The ring grew taller every second, until it replaced the walls around them.

Ferdinand stepped closer to the edge, taking in the cavernous room they were now descending upon. It was lit by rocks set like torches into the pillars, glowing an eerie blue. The architecture was old, not unlike what he’d seen in the oldest parts of Enbarr. But unlike those buildings, there was no wear on this rock: it was pristine. It looked as if it had been cut from the earth yesterday, and yet like it had been there forever.

“Incredible,” Dimitri breathed, his soft voice reverberating across the chamber. “To think such a vast space has been hiding beneath the monastery all this time…”

The platform came gently to the ground, and Rhea led them down through the chamber, the  _ clack _ of her heels echoing like artillery fire.

Behind him, Ferdinand heard Annette whisper, “Do you think there’s ghosts in here, Mercie?”

“Well, we  _ are _ surrounded by tombs,” Mercedes responded, a bit too gleefully. “I would imagine there are at least a couple.”

Annette made a despairing noise. Towards the front of the group, Ashe hunched his shoulders.

Finally, they arrived at the far wall of the Holy Tomb. On a raised dais was a grand throne, the symbol of the goddess carved into its back.

“It is said,” Rhea intoned, “that the goddess Sothis sat upon this very throne. Professor.” She turned towards Byleth, gesturing them forward. “Sit upon the throne. I have no doubt you will be gifted a revelation from the goddess.”

Byleth ascended the stairs and sat upon the throne. The light from the stones bounced off their hair, wreathing them in a glowing halo.

It was like the whole chamber was holding its breath. Watching. Waiting.

“...well?” Rhea asked, breaking the spell.

Byleth shook their head.

Rhea’s expectant smile faltered. “I don’t understand… What could…?”

Beside Ferdinand, Dimitri stiffened, swinging around to face the chamber. “Reveal yourself!” he growled.

From the shadows behind the massive pillars, a handful of soldiers melted into view. At the head of the squad were two people: one was the vicious General Metodey, whom Ferdinand had once had the misfortune of meeting back in the empire; the other was the mysterious Flame Emperor that had recently begun plaguing Fódlan.

“Thank you for guiding us this far,” Metodey sneered. “After all, we couldn’t have found the Holy Tomb without your little ceremony.”

Dedue stepped towards the newcomers, frowning. “Why is the Imperial army here?” he wondered.

“And how did they get into Garreg Mach?” Ingrid added.

Felix leaned over to Ferdinand. “You didn’t tell us the Flame Emperor was connected to the Empire.”

“I didn’t know!” Ferdinand whispered back. And truly he hadn’t. To think that such a villain was at all associated with the Empire was beyond unbelievable. He wondered if Edelgard knew, though he was sure she didn’t. His future emperor would never be in league with the people behind so many atrocities.

Dimitri stepped forward, every muscle tense. “Flame Emperor. I never imagined you would have the nerve to return here. What do you want?” His words dripped with such pure hatred; he hardly even sounded like the Dimitri Ferdinand had grown to know over the past year. It was like a mask had been ripped away, revealing something terrifying beneath. Ferdinand fought the urge to step away.

“Is it not obvious?” the Flame Emperor asked, and something about the way it was said felt familiar to Ferdinand, though he couldn’t place how. “The Crest Stones in this tomb hold great power. The power to rule all of Fódlan.”

“And you’ll do  _ anything _ in your power to attain that, won’t you?” Dimitri spat. Sylvain reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but Dimitri threw him aside. “Just like you did in Duscur!”

“I had nothing to do with that.” The Flame Emperor turned to the Imperial troops, clearly done with Dimitri. “Collect the Crest Stones. Kill for them, if you must.”

“Insolence!” Rhea cried. “Stop them! Destroy these infidels!”

She needn’t have wasted her breath. Dimitri was halfway to the Flame Emperor before she could finish, Dedue pushing past their classmates in a desperate bid to catch up.

Byleth swore under their breath. “Mercedes, they might need a healer.”

Mercedes nodded and rushed off to join the prince and his retainer.

“Everyone else, stop them from getting those Crest Stones.”

The rest of the Lions split between the two rows of tombs that flanked the chamber. Ferdinand took the right, alongside Byleth and Annette. “You go ahead!” he called to them. “Get the ones closest to escaping!” Without his horse, Ferdinand knew he was nowhere as fast as Byleth. Nor did he have the range that Annette’s magic gave her.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” Byleth asked as they passed him.

“Of course, Professor.”

They nodded, then sprinted to catch up with Annette.

Most of the Imperial soldiers were more interested in retreating with their stolen goods than fighting, so Ferdinand had to run to catch them. The first two, he simply knocked out before reclaiming the Crest Stones; no matter what Rhea called them, he couldn’t believe that anyone deserved to die for the simple crime of being assigned to a unit under Metodey.

The third soldier, however, caught Ferdinand off guard.

One moment he was stooping down to collect a Crest Stone from a fallen soldier. The next, there was a swordsman in his space, much too close for Ferdinand to properly use his lance.

He stumbled backwards, blocking one blow and then the next, hoping desperately that the wooden shaft of the lance would hold up against the sword.

The swordsman swung in an arc, just nearly missing Ferdinand’s hand. He updated his list of concerns to include losing his fingers.

While he was trying to keep up with the flurry of blows, Ferdinand wasn’t paying the closest attention to where his feet were falling. After the latest strike sent him staggering backwards once again, Ferdinand’s heel caught on the lip of one of the opened tombs. With a shout, he fell backwards into it. His head knocked against the other side of the tomb, sending his vision swimming.

Vaguely, he could see the Imperial soldier raise his sword for the killing blow. Ferdinand knew he should move. But his limbs weren’t working right, and he couldn’t clear the fog from his head.

It seemed to fall in slow motion, a long, gray blur cutting through the air, catching the greenish glow of the nearest light.

And then it spun away. The soldier’s hand was blasted back. His sword clattered against the nearest wall. He followed soon after. A bolt slammed into him, so dark it seemed to suck the light out of everything surrounding it. The man flew into the solid rock, falling to the floor in a heap of unnatural angles.

Ferdinand was suddenly pulled upright. Static flooded his vision. He swayed, but was steadied by a firm hand at his shoulder.

“You should have been more careful,” said his very blurry, very familiar rescuer.

“Hubert…?”

His rescuer stiffened. Ferdinand gradually blinked the spots from his eyes, until he could see clearly again. The man in front of him was dressed in standard-issue Imperial mage robes instead of a school uniform, but he was still, undeniably, Hubert.

Ferdinand frowned. “What are you doing here? You could not possibly…” Hubert shifted uncomfortably. “You could not be betraying Edelgard, could you?”

“Wh-!” It was the first time Ferdinand had seen genuine shock on Hubert’s face. “No! How could you think that?”

“But then that would mean…” The realization set like lead in his bones. “No. She wouldn’t.” He glared up at Hubert, indignation burning in his throat. “How long have you known about this?” he demanded.

Was that shame on Hubert’s face? He couldn’t quite tell in the lighting. “Two weeks.”

“And you did not think to tell me?”

“You would have tried to stop us.”

“You are damn right I would have!” All the emotion was making his head spin, but he was determined to stay conscious. “Did you not think that maybe I would have good reason to object to this… this… this flagrant display of aggression? Against the Church of Seiros, no less! A prime minister should be consulted before his emperor starts a damned holy war, should he not?” He paused, both to catch his breath, and to let his foggy brain fully process a new thought. “Unless… am I not even that, anymore?”

“You can be.” Hubert looked over his shoulder. His words became more rushed. “You can still be by her side. I know she wants you to be. It’s not too late.”

“Oh,  _ now _ you think to consult me?” he said, and he was shocked by the bite in his words. “I am surprised you do not simply throw me over your shoulder, regardless of how I feel.”

Hubert almost… winced? “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Not to you.”

He looked back again, and this time Ferdinand followed his gaze. Hubert was tracking Dimitri’s movements. As expected from his outburst, he was carving through the Imperial soldiers, making his way toward the Flame Emperor with the single-mindedness of a rabid animal. The closer Dimitri got, the more twitchy Hubert became. Which meant… but that couldn’t be right. Edelgard would never…

“You need to decide,” Hubert said. “Fast.”

“Is Edelgard the Flame Emperor?” Ferdinand blurted instead, though he didn’t even know if he wanted the answer.

Hubert didn’t have time to give him one anyways.

Over Hubert’s shoulder, Ferdinand could just see one of Ashe’s arrows as it grazed the Flame Emperor’s mask. The mask clattered to the floor, and for a moment, it was like the entire room had held its breath.

Far off, in the center of the chamber, Dimitri said, “Is this some kind of twisted joke?” It echoed off the walls, drilling into Ferdinand’s head with each reverberation.  _ Was _ it a joke? It had to be. He knew there was a darkness to her, but Edelgard would never willingly ally herself with murderers and traitors like Kronya and Solon.

Except that she would. She had. The evidence was right there in front of him.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Dimitri continued. Dedue tried to hold him back, but even he was no match for Dimitri’s strength. He wrenched free and stalked towards Edelgard. “I will take your head from your shoulders... and hang it from the gates of Enbarr!”

He rushed forward, and Hubert swung back to face Ferdinand once more.  _ “Choose,” _ he insisted, a note of desperation in his voice.

“The Flame Emperor was implicated in the Tragedy of Duscur.”

“That wasn’t her.”

“And what about Captain Jeralt? All of Remire Village? Can she claim equal innocence for those crimes? Crimes perpetrated by the allies she has chosen to support?”

He glanced back at Edelgard again. “Ferdinand…”

He tried desperately to read Hubert’s face. What was he thinking? Was all this insistence truly just for Edelgard’s sake? Most things Hubert did were, after all. But Ferdinand couldn’t help but think - hope, more like - that the time they’d spent together had meant something. He wanted to believe that Hubert wasn’t just asking for Edelgard.

But his head was foggy, and his eyes were still unfocused, and he couldn’t for the life of him make sense of the minute turn of Hubert’s mouth, the furrow in his brow. All Ferdinand knew was that he  _ wanted _ Hubert to want him to come. He  _ wanted _ to trust that his confession in the gardens had meant as much to Hubert as it did to Ferdinand; that their evenings together meant something too.

More than anything, Ferdinand wanted to go with them; to stand beside the woman he had been born to serve and the man he was growing to love.

But it wasn’t right. He couldn’t support an emperor who threw her lot in with thieves and murderers. An emperor who demonstrably had no regard for his input, whatever Hubert may say about her wishes.

Ferdinand took a deep breath. Squared his shoulders. “No.”

“What?”

“No.” It made his heart sick to say it again. “I will not stop you from coming to her aid, but I cannot be a part of this.”

Hubert’s expression twisted, and Ferdinand couldn’t tell if it was rage or something else. “Are you sure?”

No. “Yes.”

Dimitri’s voice raised, and Hubert looked back again. “We will be on opposite sides of a war. One that I do not intend to lose.”

“I know.”

Pain, more visceral than anything Ferdinand had ever seen from Hubert, flashed across his face. Then he walled himself back up, just like he had been when they’d first met. He was impassive. Cold. “Then may we never meet again.”

Hubert was enveloped in a flash of dark purple light, then he disappeared, leaving Ferdinand once again unanchored.

He had just enough time to see Hubert reappear at Edelgard’s side, and see them both disappear, before his legs gave out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pulls out my notes from when this was still a wicked au*  
*clears my throat*
> 
> FERDINAND: I hope you're happy!  
HUBERT: I hope you're happy, too!  
FERDINAND: I hope you're proud how you would grovel in submission to feed [Edelgard's] ambition!  
BOTH: So though I can't imagine how, I hope you're happy right now!  
HUBERT: [Ferdie], listen to me. Just say you're sorry. You can still be with the [Emperor], what you've worked and waited for. You can have all you ever wanted...!  
FERDINAND: I know. But I don't want it. No - I _can't_ want it anymore.


	8. Azure Moon; Ethereal Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive looked up concussion symptoms so many times in my life i feel like i should just memorize them already. either that or like.... stop knocking my characters on the head

Ferdinand was still in the infirmary when Edelgard attacked the monastery a fortnight later. At first, he’d fought Manuela, who had been left behind by Edelgard during her retreat. Whether it was out of noble obligation or the need for some twisted kind of closure that he was fighting, he wasn’t sure. But eventually the battle outside turned its tide, and he became aware that he was keeping an able-bodied soldier away from the battlefield for his own selfish whims. He assured Manuela he would rest quietly.

She left. But he heard her lock the door behind her. He couldn’t blame her.

He lay on his cot. His head was throbbing, but it throbbed most days since the Tomb. He got up, it throbbed. He tipped his head back to drink something, it throbbed. He lay down, it throbbed. Manuela said it would go away, but for now it felt like a part of him.

Soldiers cried out in the courtyard below, and his head throbbed.

A wyvern - no, something bigger? - screamed in the distance. He wanted to investigate, but he couldn’t muster the strength to get up. The sound echoed throughout the monastery. His head throbbed.

At some point, he must have drifted off. The next thing he knew, Manuela was by his side again. It was dark, and everything felt fuzzy and disconnected. She sniffled.

“Are you alright?” he tried to say, though his lips wouldn’t quite push the words through.

He tried again. “‘re… you… arright?”

That time she actually looked at him. “Oh!” she said, and her voice floated half-formless and half-heard through Ferdinand’s head. She hurriedly wiped away her tears. Her mascara streaked across her cheekbones and stained her hands. “Ferdinand, darling. I didn’t know you were awake.”

Why was it so dark? Why was she crying? And… For the first time, he noticed the smell. It was earthy and smoky and it pressed in all around him, like a smothering blanket. “Wh’s th smell…?”

“Hm?” She swiped at her eyes again. “Oh. It’s herbs, incense. That sort of thing. It’s to keep out the smell.”

He couldn’t think what smell it was that they would be keeping out, but he trusted Manuela. And he didn’t want to talk anymore. His head hurt.

“We - well, we, the monastery. Not we, the Black Eagles. I don’t even think there is a Black Eagles anymore. Just Edelgard. Either way, though. We, the monastery, won,” Manuela rambled. He liked the sound of her voice. As a child, he’d worshipped her performances at the opera. For a time, he’d even fancied running away to become an opera singer himself, following in her footsteps. “But…” She sniffled, and Ferdinand’s floating thoughts were gently tugged a bit closer to the port of reality. “Rhea disappeared.” That, distantly, concerned him. “And Dimitri ran off. And Byleth...”

He jerked upwards, supporting himself with his elbow before Manuela lowered him back to the bed.

“They’re…” His voice cracked with the effort of forcing it into coherency. “They’re dead?”

“Not dead,” Manuela said. She smoothed his hair back from his damp forehead. Her nails dragged against his scalp in a way that was unfamiliar, yet oddly calming. His eyes struggled to stay open. “Missing.”

“Oh,” he said, though it was more a soft exhalation than anything else.

They weren’t dead. That was what mattered. It’s what ran through his brain, round and round and round in the dark room, in the haze of incense, with the soft, steady scratch of Manuela’s nails running through his hair.

* * *

Over the next month, the monastery was deemed unsafe to linger in. Imperial scouts lurked in the surrounding forest and sometimes ventured onto the ruined monastery grounds; it was only a matter of time before word of their whereabouts got back to Edelgard.

So they left. Ferdinand - who Manuela insisted was still recovering - was entrusted to the care of a local inn to heal and to rest and to go, in general, absolutely mad with inaction. Occasionally, he would get visitors to check in on him. Mostly Manuela, though once he got Mercedes, with Annette in tow.

It took a good two months for him to finally be cleared to join the search, and he jumped at the chance as soon as it was permitted.

The search for Rhea was unfruitful, and the professor proved even more elusive. Dimitri, who turned up in Fhirdiad not long after he left the monastery, was once again lost after an internal coup. So they started looking for him as well.

Five years, he traveled across nearly every war-torn inch of Fódlan. Until finally, on the week of the millennium festival, Gilbert received word of Dimitri from a scout stationed near Garreg Mach. Word was sent to the more remote members of the search, then Gilbert took whoever was on hand to head out with him.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Ashe fretted. He was seated on the cramped wagon bench beside Ferdinand, knees knocking against Annette’s from across the aisle.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” said Mercedes. Though she did a good job of hiding it, Ferdinand could tell she was nervous too.

He couldn’t blame her. Physically, Dimitri was strong. But the psychic toll of losing one’s birthright… Ferdinand wanted to think he could relate, but at least he’d had a choice in the matter. Dimitri hadn’t.

They pulled to a stop halfway up the mountain path leading to the monastery, when the rubble became too much for the horses to navigate.

It was strange, picking his way through the ruins of a place that was so vivid in his memory. They passed by a halfway-collapsed wall. The last time he’d seen it was when Caspar had roped him into chasing one of the monastery cats. He’d had to stand on Ferdinand’s shoulders to haul himself to the top, where the cat was patiently waiting for him.

But now, it hardly came up to Ferdinand’s waist, even in the highest places.

Ashe jerked to a halt, and Ferdinand nearly ran into him. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Ferdinand looked around, trying to catch whatever Ashe was talking about.

“One second.” Ashe put a finger to his lips, tilting his head this way and that, walking from one end of the path to the other. Finally, his eyes narrowed, and he ran over to a particularly high section of rubble, scrabbling to the top.

“What is it?” Annette whispered up to him.

But Ashe didn’t seem able to respond. His eyes had gone wide, mouth falling open like a fish on the line.

Gilbert walked to the foot of the pile. “Are you alright, son?”

“They’re both here.”

“Come again?”

“His Highness,” Ashe said. “And… and the professor!”

Mercedes gasped. Annette took off immediately. “Come on, then! What are we waiting for?”

“Be careful!” Ashe called, half-crawling, half-sliding down the pile of rubble after her. “There’s bandits!”

Ferdinand ran past him, followed closely by Mercedes and Gilbert. “That is all the more reason to make haste!”

The bandits had made a makeshift base around a collapsed guard tower down the hill. Once Ferdinand ducked around a couple more mounds of rubble, he could see them clearly. And, in the midst of it all, he could see Dimitri, a spot of golden hair amidst the dreary buildings. He tore apart every bandit that he could get his hands on. Sometimes he would sweep them aside with his lance, their bodies being thrown with such force that they were broken long before they slammed into the nearest wall. Other times, he didn’t even bother with his weapon. Although Ferdinand had scorned the comparison five years ago, he was unable to shake the thought that perhaps Felix had been onto something when he had likened Dimitri to a wild boar.

Following just a hair behind Dimitri’s rampage was Byleth. They had a sword out, though they had little cause to use it.

“Your Highness!” Annette called. “Professor!”

Byleth looked towards them, face lighting up in one of those rare shows of emotion that Ferdinand had missed so dearly during their absence.

Dimitri, however, didn’t even glance their way.

There was little for them to do once they got to the bandits’ base, besides follow the trail of bodies strewn amidst the wreckage. Ashe managed to take down a mage that had thus far stayed away from the action, but it seemed that, by and large, Dimitri had made sure not to miss a single bandit.

By the time they caught up, the leader was already dead at Dimitri’s feet. Byleth hovered on the outskirts of the scene, as if unsure.

“Your Highness!” Gilbert cried, rushing forward.

This time, Dimitri did turn around.

He looked terrible. His armor was dull and scratched. His fur cloak was grayed and ragged. His hair had grown shaggy and limp. He was missing one eye, and the other one was dull and tired, like he hadn’t slept in months. And he was covered head to toe in gore. It flecked his face, his armor; it stuck in his hair and the fur on his shoulders.

“Why are you here,” he said. His voice was lower than it had been, and hoarse. Like he hadn’t spoken in a while, or like he’d screamed himself raw. Maybe both.

“We wanted to know you’re okay!” Annette said, a bit taken aback.

“We’ve been so worried about you,” Mercedes added. She looked between him and Byleth. “Both of you.”

“I have been following news of your whereabouts for a while now,” Gilbert said. “The Empire has annexed the Kingdom. Your Highness, more than supplies, more than troops, and now more than ever, your people need the rightful heir to reclaim his land.”

Dimitri scowled. “I am hardly the crown prince anymore. But I am glad you all see the necessity of stopping that... woman,” he spat. “The Empire cannot be forgiven. We must wipe out every last one of them.”

Annette took a small step back. “E… every last one?” She shot a quick look back at Ferdinand.

He wished she hadn’t.

Dimitri followed her gaze, and, for the first time, his single, baleful eye fell upon Ferdinand. His fist tightened around his lance, so hard that it was a wonder it didn’t snap. Ferdinand wondered if his neck would prove stronger than the shaft of that lance. “You,” Dimitri said.

Even if he’d wanted to, Ferdinand couldn’t respond. His mouth had gone dry. He’d only seen that look on Dimitri’s face once before, when they’d been attacked in the Holy Tomb all those years ago. He didn’t know how Edelgard had managed to stand her ground under this look of pure, utter hatred. Every part of him seized up, unable to decide between running and being cut down in the attempt, or simply standing and waiting for the inevitable blow.

Dimitri took a step forward. “You’re with her.”

He raised his lance. Ferdinand closed his eyes.

“Dimitri!” Byleth said, just as Annette yelled “Wait!”

There was a blast of heat just above Ferdinand’s head, and he opened his eyes just in time to see the spearhead go flying off in a half-melted heap into a pile of rubble. Byleth was standing in front of him and Annette was holding on to Dimitri’s arm, as if she was any match for him. Ferdinand would have found it comical, if he had not just narrowly escaped death, and if he were not more than a little concerned for Annette’s safety.

Mercedes stepped forward. “Ferdinand has been searching for you and the professor just as hard as the rest of us,” she chided, the touch of a hard edge creeping into her voice. “You have no right to attack him like this!”

“No right…!” Dimitri growled, but he was silenced by Byleth’s hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged it off. “Fine,” he said. He stalked back towards the monastery, passing by Ferdinand close enough to bump into him. It seemed so effortless on Dimitri’s part; and yet the force of the impact was enough to send Ferdinand staggering. Dimitri scowled at him as he passed. “But keep him out of my sight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dimitri is rude now >:3


	9. Azure Moon; Guardian Moon

On one hand, Ferdinand was grateful that Dimitri chose not to sleep in his old dorm room that night. On the other hand, proximity to a former friend now intent on his death would have made an excellent excuse to not sleep in his own dorm.

Alas, Dimitri was goddess-knew-where, and Ferdinand was standing in the door to his old room, breathing in the dust that coated every surface. His sheets were still neatly made, though there were holes in the fabric now. The red rug was faded and threadbare, graying in some places and worn through in others. For a moment, he fancied the worn-out spots were where he and Dimitri had practiced all those years ago; but he quickly shut that thought away. On the stone floor behind the rug, strewn about were the pieces of heavy armor he’d hoped to wear into battle one day, before the war sidetracked his training. He leaned over to pick one up, nearly choking on the cascade of dust. It was unrecognizable: a hunk of rusting metal, black and pitted.

He didn’t want to be here.

* * *

Byleth opened their door after the second knock. They raised an eyebrow. “It’s a bit late for gentleman callers,” they observed, standing aside in a silent invitation.

“I was… I was just wondering if you needed help with cleaning.”

They gestured to the room: every surface had been basically dusted. The sheets were changed, and there were even fresh flowers in a vase on the desk.

“Ah,” he said. He picked at the seam of his gloves. “Perhaps tea, then?”

He received a searching look for this, but Byleth nodded and headed to root through their cabinets all the same. Meanwhile, Ferdinand busied himself with cleaning out and setting up the tea set.

“I didn’t have any on me when I went missing,” Byleth said, pulling out a tin of tea leaves, the labeling all faded. “Does tea keep?”

He frowned. “How is the seal on the case?”

“Unbroken.”

“Then it should be fine. What kind is it?”

They cracked it open, taking an experimental sniff. “Black, I think.”

“Oh. I would not want to keep you up -”

He started to stand, but Byleth motioned him back down. “We’re not doing anything pressing tomorrow. Anyways, I get the feeling this is about more than a late night cup of tea.”

A subtle, sweet smell filled the room as Byleth scooped some of the leaves into the pot. “I would not want to trouble you,” he said.

“Come, Ferdinand,” said Byleth, their mild words taking on a slightly pompous affectation. “True nobles must speak their minds.”

Ferdinand couldn’t help the small smile that broke onto his lips. “It is not like you to make fun, Professor.” He poured the tea into their cups. “You seem to have changed while you were away.”

Byleth swirled their cup thoughtfully, humming in assent. Then they snapped back to fix him with a look. “You can’t deflect that easily.” Their eyes softened. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed, taking a sip to stall. “Oh!” he exclaimed, pulling the cup away from his lips a bit quicker than was probably polite. “That is…” He took another, more resigned drink. “...subpar.”

Byleth brought their own cup to their lips. They made a face at the taste. “It  _ is _ five years old.”

“Indeed.”

They drank in silence. Ferdinand would have thought himself off the hook, were it not for the professor looking at him over the top of their cup, like they were waiting.

“Do you not find it… strange?” he finally started. “The monastery, I mean. I feel as if I am constantly being assaulted by ghosts of a long-dead life. I cannot go anywhere without seeing absent friends. Lorenz in the tea gardens, Caspar in the training grounds, and…” His throat tightened at the thought of the reception hall, of the gazebo outside. He took another underwhelming sip to wash the memories away. Byleth raised an eyebrow, so he changed tack before they could catch on. “Even Dimitri himself feels much the same. A walking, living reminder of someone I once knew.”

“I’m sorry for the way he treated you,” Byleth said. “You didn’t deserve that. He’s…” They pursed their lips, a pained expression on their face. “He’s so different now.”

“He plans to attack the Empire soon, does he not?”

Byleth winced. “Probably. If you don’t want to…”

“I can fight,” he insisted, pride taking the reins before the ache in his heart could stop him. “My lot has been thrown in with the Kingdom for years now. No matter what its king might think,” he added, the words bitter on his lips.

Byleth nodded, taking one last sip of tea. They stood, collecting Ferdinand’s empty cup and the drained pot. “Thank you for confiding in me, Ferdinand,” they said. “If you ever need to talk, about anything…”

“Thank you, Professor,” he said, standing up as well. “I suppose I should head back to my room, then.” Even though the very thought turned his heart to lead. It was a relatively warm night; perhaps he could find a spare blanket and sleep under one of Linhardt’s trees instead.

“You can sleep here,” Byleth said.

He blinked. “What?”

“I’m going to find Dimitri. Maybe we’ll talk. Probably not.” They shrugged. “Either way, I won’t be back tonight.”

“I… Thank you, Professor.”

They smiled, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind his ear as they passed. “Sleep well, Ferdinand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know that, by this point, ive dedicated nearly 16k words to making ferdinand absolutely miserable. so like,, i feel like i should say that, despite everything ive done so far (and everything im planning to do later), i really do love him. i know it doesnt look like it but i swear its true


	10. Azure Moon; Great Tree Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the kinda late update!! school finally started back up, so im gonna be way slower getting these last two chapters out. but i DO have an outline, and, god as my fucking witness, i WILL be finishing this. its just.... gonna take a bit maybe

There was a slow trickle of activity over the next few months, as allies and knights made their way to the monastery. Though staying out of Dimitri’s way meant that Ferdinand avoided most of the war councils, he did manage to glean the basic idea from snippets of conversation - mostly with Byleth or some of his former classmates. From what he heard, although Gilbert and Byleth - and, once he’d joined up with them, Lord Fraldarius - tried their best to temper Dimitri’s rage, it seemed it was only a matter of time before his orders brought them up against something a bit more powerful than a skeleton crew of Imperial soldiers.

So when he learned that they were moving against a full Imperial force stationed at Gronder Field, he wasn’t surprised.

He was, however, surprised to learn that Edelgard would be the one leading that force. And if she was there, then surely… No. Nothing was more deadly than getting distracted right before a battle.

“You don’t have to fight,” Byleth reminded him on their way to Gronder Field. He was on Kyphon, an even-tempered warhorse from House Fraldarius. When Byleth came up to ride alongside him, their pony barely came up to Kyphon’s shoulder.

His grip tightened on the reins, hoping that his height shielded the small tell from view. “I can fight,” he said.

And then again, standing on the grassy field. He was still on his horse, now pulling his unruly hair into a last-minute braid to keep it out of the way. It had grown long over the years; he knew he should cut it, but he never seemed to get around to it. Byleth stood by his side, absently stroking Kyphon’s flank as Lord Fraldarius rode down the line of troops, preparing them for the battle ahead. They shifted slightly, before saying, flatly, “You don’t have to be on the front lines, at least. If you don’t want.”

“Professor…”

They looked up at him, catching him with that piercing look of theirs, like they could see every moving part inside of him. “This is about him, isn’t it.”

“Who, Dimitri?” He sighed. “I hold no illusions that anything I do will bring me back within his good graces.”

“Ferdinand.” Their brows lowered, as if to say _ Don’t be coy _.

He stiffened in his saddle. There was no way they could know who he was thinking of. Who he had been trying so desperately _ not _ to think of. Could they? Sure he and Hubert hadn’t been particularly secretive during their brief time together. But they had done little more than brush hands every now and then; certainly nothing of note to a professor. And to assume Ferdinand still carried a torch for him after all these years? Preposterous.

When it was clear he had no response, Byleth continued. “Do what you have to.”

He frowned, perplexed. “Pardon?”

“I’m bound to this side of the war,” Byleth said. “But...” They caught his eyes again, expression concerned. “Ferdinand, I want you to be happy. Fight for him.” They gestured to Dimitri, halfway down the line. “Fight for her.” Now they flung their arm towards the far side of the field, where the Imperial forces had assembled. “Or just leave, if you want.” They reached up to place a hand on his knee. “Whatever you have to do, I’ll support you.”

Ferdinand stared down at them, blank with shock. Was he being told - or at the very least invited - to defect? Right before the most important battle the Kingdom had seen since the beginning of the war? It was true that he wasn’t particularly happy where he was - not at the monastery, with Dimitri and a thousand other ghosts waiting around every corner, and certainly not standing on the opposite side of a battle from his old friends. But he couldn’t very well be happy abandoning his friends here for his friends across the field either. This was war. Happiness was in short supply, no matter the side. “Thank you for the thought, Professor.”

They nodded, hand slipping from his knee. “Rodrigue is almost done,” they said, looking down the line. “Are you ready?”

He took a deep breath. Cleared his head of Edelgard, and Dimitri, and Hubert, and every other distracting thought. “Yes.” He was a soldier. Soldiers fought.

Lord Fraldarius’s command to charge only barely reached them. But the crack of thunder that he sent following after his voice rang across the entire battlefield. There could be no mistake: the Kingdom was ready.

Ferdinand hung back, hesitant to head out into the fray, despite what he’d said. From on top of his horse, he could just make out Bernadetta standing at the ballista in the middle of the field. It was the same place Edelgard had put her during the Battle of the Eagle and Lion all those years ago. Bernadetta had been scared half to death up there; he could only imagine how she felt now, could only hope that the years had hardened her enough to keep her strong in the face of the Kingdom forces.

While most of the army was focused on claiming the high ground, Ferdinand headed towards the Demonic Beasts with Sylvain and Ingrid. He didn’t have a Relic like they did, so the damage he could deal was paltry at best, when compared to them. But he could draw attention away from Ingrid so that she didn’t get knocked out of the sky, and he could attack the monsters long enough for Sylvain to sneak behind them and get a hit in that mattered. Whatever it took to keep them safe, and keep him away from Bernadetta.

They’d moved on to the second beast when the ballista and its platform erupted into flames. Kyphon lost his balance in the blast, legs tangling together and toppling to the ground. Ferdinand went down too, his shoulder jarring hard against the earth, leg twisting beneath his struggling horse.

Smoke billowed into the sky. Ingrid had been blown far off by the updraft, and Sylvain was nowhere to be seen - safe, hopefully.

Unfortunately for Ferdinand, the blast had not affected the beast nearly as much as he would have hoped. With Ingrid and Sylvain both gone, it turned its expressionless stone face towards him.

His breath came in pained bursts, the acrid smoke burning his throat as he tried to unpin his leg. The beast lumbered toward him, taking its time, as if it knew he was completely helpless.

He pushed against Kyphon, willing him to thrash around in a direction that would allow him to free his leg, each thudding step of the beast echoing in his chest like the beat of an executioner’s drum.

For a split second, Kyphon lifted high enough for Ferdinand to slip his leg out, before the horse came crashing back down. Ferdinand wedged his hands underneath him, straining to set him upright. But the horse was too heavy, and Ferdinand’s leg kept giving out under the strain.

The beast was getting closer. Ferdinand got to his feet, using his lance for support. Even if he were of a mind to abandon Kyphon, he wasn’t sure if he could. He limped towards the beast, a vague plan forming in his mind. Demonic Beasts had once been human. If he was right, they would still be built basically the same. He was betting his life on it.

As soon as he got within range, the beast reared up, raising a giant, clawed hand. Before it could bring it back down, in a swipe that would doubtless be the end of Ferdinand, he launched himself forward. It was beyond painful putting weight on his injured leg, but thankfully it only took him a few steps to get past the claws and jam his lance into the place where the heart should have been.

The beast cried out, something harsh and distorted and just a touch too human. It swayed, and Ferdinand only had a moment to throw himself aside before it collapsed, burying his lance even deeper into its chest.

He lay on the grass, panting the burning air in and out, in and out. It was hard, trying to stand without his lance to support him. He got about halfway up on his own, before a boot to his back sent him back down. Dirt ground against his cheek and burned his eye.

“Damn Faerghus cockroaches,” spat someone above him. “Can’t even get killed right.”

The tip of a sword rested against the nape of his neck. Ferdinand’s blood chilled. He tried to get free, but he was exhausted, and the soldier’s foot felt like a leaden weight pressing down upon him.

“Stop squirming,” the man growled. The sword pressed down, and a thin stream of blood trailed down his neck, down his jaw, down his cheek, into the dirt. Ferdinand struggled harder. It wasn’t doing anything, but if he was to die here, he might as well make a nuisance of himself.

The sword lifted, and he could only imagine it was to prepare for the death blow. He supposed being killed by an Imperial soldier wasn’t the most shocking way for him to go, considering he’d been working with the Kingdom for five years. Still, something about it felt wrong, in the same way that it felt wrong for him to kill others from the Empire. They were countrymen; it should have been Ferdinand’s job to lead these men, to keep them from seeing a battlefield entirely, if possible.

A blast of energy slammed into the ground a few feet shy of Ferdinand’s face. “Hold!”

Hooves approached them, and Ferdinand strained to see anything above the horse’s jet-black knees.

“I’m holding,” the soldier said, shifting slightly from on top of Ferdinand. “I’m holding!”

“Good. Get him up. We need him alive.” The pressure let up on his back, just as his left arm was jerked violently upwards.

He looked up. There, wreathed in the bloody red of the smoke-choked sky, was Hubert. His face was leaner, hair shorter, but it was unmistakably him. Ferdinand’s breath caught.

“He might have useful information. Escort him to the convoy immediately.”

“And if he gives me trouble?”

Hubert’s glare moved from the soldier to Ferdinand. His eyes narrowed, but there was no smile of recognition, no raised eyebrow. He was cold, impassive, expressionless. “He won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ferdinand...... has.............. _A BRAID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_


	11. Azure Moon; Harpstring Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING for! descriptions of specific details of death!! if you read something that starts off with "When he tried to picture killing..." and you think hm actually i would Not like to picture that, just skip that paragraph and pick back up on "Ferdinand brimmed"!!!

The march back to Enbarr should have been a pleasant one. The cool winter weather had just begun to turn springward, and the days were a perfect balance between brisk air and warm sun. Flowers sprouted from the thawing ground and perfumed the air. And, of course, they’d won the battle. Morale was high all the way back. Hubert might have shared that feeling, had it not been for the constant knowledge that Ferdinand was in manacles in a wagon at the back of their train. But if Hubert was in a dark mood, it was generally accepted that that was to be expected. Nobody noticed anything amiss.

Nobody but Edelgard.

They were back home now, encased in the stone walls of the Imperial castle. The weather had turned the morning after they got home. Now a spring shower threw itself against the window of Edelgard’s personal study. She sat with her back to it, leaned over the chess board set up on top of her paperwork. She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. Its embroidered edges just barely brushed the top of her king’s head.

“You’ve been quiet, Hubert,” she observed, moving a pawn. “Does victory truly take that much of a toll on you?”

“I’m fine.” He moved a knight to capture the pawn, only to realize he’d fallen into a trap.

“Careful, Hubert. Lying to your emperor could be considered an act of treason.” Edelgard rested her cheek on her hand, her eyes soft and calculating. “You never would have missed that ploy if you weren’t distracted.” She moved her queen, tightening the noose around the knight. “It wouldn’t happen to have something to do with our guest downstairs, would it?”

“I  _ have _ been thinking about what to do with him,” Hubert admitted. “We can’t keep him in the dungeon forever.” He looked out the window and wondered if the rain would end up working its way into the underground cells. If it was cold down there, and if someone had thought to give Ferdinand a blanket. “And we do have a precedent set for how to deal with deserters.”

“Hubert…”

“I don’t like it either,” he said. “But you might lose support from the nobility if you start being lenient now. Especially to Ferdinand.” He moved his bishop to block the queen’s path. “Even stripped of their title, the Aegir line could be a flag for your opposition to rally under.”

“If we execute Ferdinand, our former classmates will likely disapprove. That’s half of the court.”

“Nobody but us and a handful of soldiers know he’s here.”

“Hubert.” She moved her queen to capture his bishop. “Are you seriously advocating for this?”

That bought him time to move his knight out of harm’s way. “I think that it is the most politically sound choice.”

“Why not let him simply die in the battle, then? It would have had the same effect.”

That gave him pause. “I thought…” What had he thought? The scene was a blur in his memory; he couldn’t even remember what he’d said to the soldier. “Apologies,” he finally said. “It appears I wasn’t thinking.”

“...I see.” Instead of taking her move, Edelgard pulled her feet up onto the chair. It was a girlish gesture - one that Hubert hadn’t seen for years. She wrapped her arms around her knees. The hems of the crimson shawl joined loosely together, showing a procession of silvery unicorns and dragons and manticores marching along the edges in Bernadetta’s careful hand. “You have always put all else aside for me and my ambitions,” she said. She exhaled sharply in a humorless laugh. “It’s a wonder you haven’t started to resent me.”

“Lady Edelgard, I would never -”

She held up a hand. “I know.” A wistful smile pulled at her lips. “Just know that I love you dearly, Hubert. You have sacrificed so much, all to get me here. For that, I will be forever indebted to you.”

He tried to tell her no, she owed him nothing, she never had, but she silenced him again.

“I have never been more secure, more powerful, than I am now. And that is in large part due to you.” She turned her attention back to the game, just long enough to move her rook across the board. It was checkmate. He’d been so focused on the queen’s trap that he’d forgotten to look outside that section of the board. “I trust you, Hubert. I know you would never do anything to endanger me. Which is why I tell you this: I leave the decision of what to do with Ferdinand entirely up to you. Do whatever you feel is right.”

She gave him a meaningful look. He feared what it meant.

* * *

It was, as he had feared, both damp and drafty in the dungeons. Aboveground, the rain was light and everything smelled fresh. Down here, the wet air wormed its way beneath the skin and settled in the bones.

A miserable-looking guard pointed him down the hall, to the far corner, and handed him a ring of keys. Hubert’s footsteps reverberated throughout the empty dungeon, bouncing off every inch of barren stone wall.

Ferdinand’s cell was on the left. Their eyes met as soon as Hubert came into view; Ferdinand had been waiting. He was half-raised on one knee, as if he intended to rise to meet his visitor - and do what? Attack? He was shaking slightly; whether it was from the cold, or pain, or fear, it mattered not. It showed he was weakened. Trying to fight his way out would be foolish, but not the kind of foolish that Ferdinand tended towards.

The key was cold and clumsy in Hubert’s hands, leaching heat from his fingers and sticking to his skin as he opened the door. Ferdinand eyed him warily, easing himself to his feet - well, foot. He was favoring his right leg. His shoulders were a line of tension, lips pursed, brows pulled together. “Hubert,” he said, cautiously.

Hubert was used to this kind of reaction. Most of the members of the court spoke to him with barely-suppressed discomfort, servants and soldiers with outright fear. But on Ferdinand, it felt wrong. Even after his life was threatened on their very first meeting, he had been determinedly chipper and confident. But now...

Hubert hated this. He hated the shaking. He hated the off-kilter way he had to stand to protect his leg. He hated the thin linen undershirt he’d been stripped down to, and the bluish tint to his lips. More than anything, he hated the uncertain, almost fearful look that Ferdinand was giving him.

He stepped forward and wrapped Ferdinand in a tight embrace.

At first, Ferdinand stiffened. Then he melted into the touch. His arms wrapped around Hubert, hands fisting clumsily into the back of his cloak. He buried his face into Hubert’s shoulder. “Oh, Hubert,” he said, voice wet and muffled by the thick fabric. “I missed you.”

He’d missed Ferdinand too. He’d missed their evening games, and even Ferdinand’s cheerful, idle chatter. And though he’d never felt the need for it before attending Garreg Mach, he’d missed Ferdinand’s casual affection too - the easy touches meant to show excitement, or draw attention, or give encouragement - not so much for the touches themselves, but for the simple fact that they meant Ferdinand was near.

What was he going to do? He didn’t know. He pulled Ferdinand closer to him, hand tangling in his hair. It was still in its braid, but only loosely. Strands had broken loose, hanging limp in front of his face and down his back. Hubert pressed his face into the top of Ferdinand’s head; it smelled like sweat and old blood. “You grew out your hair,” he finally said.

Ferdinand shook under him in what might have been a chuckle. “I forgot to cut it,” he mumbled.

Such an odd thing, coming from a man who used to preen his eyebrows in front of a mirror every single day. When had he dropped that foolish habit, Hubert wondered?

But of course, he knew.

They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity. And yet, when Ferdinand finally pulled away, it felt like it had been no time at all. The space where he’d been seconds before now felt cold, empty.

“Why are you here, Hubert?” he asked. His face was splotchy now, his eyes red. He swiped at his cheeks. “Why am  _ I _ here?”

“What do you mean?”

Ferdinand gave him an exasperated look, and for a moment it was like they were back in the academy, with nothing between them except their opinions on some insignificant government policy. “I am not a fool, Hubert. I have no useful information to offer, or to be tortured out of. And despite Edelgard’s many enemies, I am the only one in this dungeon. I know where the others have gone.” His gaze was steady, though he’d begun to shake again. “Why have I not joined them?”

Unsure how to answer, Hubert instead began to unfasten his cloak.

Ferdinand frowned. “What are you doing?”

“You’re cold.” He draped the cloak over Ferdinand’s shoulders, satisfied when Ferdinand pulled it close around him and slowly stopped shivering. He led Ferdinand over to the nearest wall and helped lower him to the ground. Then he joined him. Their shoulders brushed together. “What’s wrong with your leg?” he asked.

“You are avoiding my question.”

He was. He’d been avoiding it long before Ferdinand had asked. Coming down here, it had been easy to visualize. Logically, he knew that a quiet execution would be the best choice for Edelgard. There was little risk of their former classmates finding out, which allayed Edelgard’s concerns, and Ferdinand’s continued lack of presence in Adrestian politics would discourage dissenters from using him as a figurehead.

But despite that, the thought had flown from his head the moment he saw Ferdinand. Now, when he tried to conjure it back up, he found he couldn’t. He had seen so much death. Most of it, by his own hand. He’d torn the life from men and women, young and old. Some he’d known only for as long as it took to kill them; others he’d known his whole life. It had never made much of a difference.

And yet.

When he tried to picture killing Ferdinand, he couldn’t. His mind skirted around the method, shied away from the result. He couldn’t see the light leaving his eyes, because he couldn’t think of Ferdinand’s eyes as anything other than bright, dancing honey-gold in the sunlight. Couldn’t consider his limbs going still and then stiff, because they should be animated, touching on shoulders and backs and things that he liked at the market. And to do the deed himself? The actions were as familiar as breathing, and yet Hubert could not force himself into them.

Ferdinand brimmed with vitality, and, despite the necessity, Hubert couldn’t bring himself to take that away.

Selfish.

There was a bump on his shoulder. “Hubert?” Ferdinand said.

“I can’t,” he finally said.

“Can’t what?”

“You’re still here because I can’t kill you.”

“Oh.” He furrowed his brow. “...why not? I do not have some title still, do I?”

“No. Politically speaking, you’re completely worthless.”

“Flatterer.” He cracked a smile, though it was empty of any humor. Then, after a pause, the smile fell. “Though I imagine I am worse than worthless,” he said. “My father must still have supporters, after all.”

“Would you work with them?”

“Of course not,” Ferdinand spat, that familiar fire kindling once more, if only for a moment. “I may disagree with Edelgard, but my father’s supporters are deceitful, vicious snakes. There is not a single honorable man amongst them.”

Hubert smiled, small and almost imperceptible in the dark cell. Ferdinand really hadn’t changed. Not where it mattered, at least.

“But that would not stop them,” he continued. “Just the hope of my cooperation might be enough to start a rebellion.”

“I know.”

“So why, then? Alive, I am obviously only trouble for Edelgard.”

Hubert let out an aggravated sigh, put his head in his hands. All of this,  _ all _ of it, he knew already! No matter what Edelgard had argued, Hubert knew that Ferdinand was a loose end that needed to be tied. “I  _ can’t, _ ” he ground out once again. “I just… can’t.”

“Of course you can.” Ferdinand picked at the hem of Hubert’s cloak. He was looking at the cobbled floor just past his feet, avoiding eye contact. “You’ve killed dozens of people.”

“Nobody I loved.”

Ferdinand’s fidgeting fingers stilled. Hubert stilled too. He hadn’t planned to say that, had never even  _ thought _ something so disgustingly melodramatic before. It felt wrong on his tongue, trite and unnuanced, condensing so much unexamined and unnamed sentiment into a single, clumsy word, one that didn’t even fit him all that well. He wished he could take it back, to have time to say it better, more correctly, to Ferdinand and to himself.

But it had been said. That was that.

“I see,” Ferdinand said, quietly.

They sat together, side by side on the stony floor. Rain pattered above their heads, gentle and slow.

Ferdinand finally broke the silence. “Are you not cold?”

He was. The stone at his back was slowly turning him numb, and his fingers felt thick and unbending, like a corpse’s. But what Ferdinand meant when he asked had really been  _ Do you want your cloak back? _ So he answered that instead. “No.” He could put aside his own discomfort. He would rather he lose feeling in his hands than Ferdinand.

“Hm.” There was the sound of shifting fabric. Hubert looked over to see Ferdinand holding the cloak out. “Come on,” he said. When Hubert didn’t move, he beckoned him with his outstretched hand. “Quickly, Hubert. You might not notice the chill, but I do.”

Hubert gave in. He moved under Ferdinand’s arm, taking the cloak’s edge from him and wrapping it around himself. Ferdinand’s arm lingered around his shoulders. He shivered. “Goodness, Hubert. You really were cold after all. Liar.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” He shifted closer to Hubert. He was warm; Hubert leaned in to him. “So,” Ferdinand said, voice soft as the falling rain. “What do we do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! happy 10 week anniversary of me not updating!!! i do this thing every damn summer where i get drunk on the notion of infinite free time and then start some big project, only to have school start back up right before i can finish. thank you to anyone who stuck around, despite my hubris ;v;
> 
> it's still finals week so i won't be able to finish immediately, but i plan to post the last chapter sometime over winter break!!! once again, thank you all for your patience and i love you!!! <333


	12. Azure Moon; Harpstring Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i run up to you, out of breath, this chapter held up in my outstretched hands,
> 
> (also im gonna take this opportunity to give a big shoutout to my dearest most cherished beta reader unluckycharm!! shes been reading this since day one and i genuinely would not have survived this debacle without her hanging out with me on the doc and her lovely feedback and also her frankly terrifying reading speed. thank u charm i love u)

Edelgard was on her way down the stairs to deliver a handful of papers back to the Minister of Defense when it happened. An explosion rocked its way up from the castle’s foundations, making the bricks shower alarming amounts of dust onto the floor and nearly knocking her off her feet.

“What was that?” cried a servant, her voice echoing from a couple spirals down the staircase.

“Are we under attack?” whispered another.

“We are not under attack,” Edelgard said, barrelling down the steps with frightening speed. The servants jumped out of her way, flattening themselves to the sides of the narrow corridor as she ran past them. “Tell everyone you see that there is nothing amiss, and that I am seeing to it personally. And do not panic - that’s an order.”

They may have murmured their assent to her back, but she didn’t hear it. She had reached the landing, and was already halfway down to the next.

Although the explosion was a bit unexpected - and strangely theatrical, for Hubert - Edelgard wasn’t surprised that something had happened. There was a part of her that was interested to see how Hubert had chosen to interpret her vague orders. But then there was the gnawing worry in her chest. What if she’d misjudged him, and he really had killed Ferdinand, as he said he should? Even though it had been years since they’d last spoken, she still harbored affectionate memories of him from the academy. And, more than that, she knew what he meant to Hubert - would she be able to bear it if he gave up Ferdinand in her name?

Or worse - no, better, she chided - she would find them both gone. Ferdinand escaped, and Hubert gone with him. It was the right choice. It was what he deserved. It was what she wanted for him.

Her breath stuck in her throat all the way down to the castle’s bowels, the sudden chill of the dungeon biting at the thin sheen of sweat that had broken out on her skin.

A crowd of guards were gathered around Ferdinand’s cell, obscuring her view. It was almost more than she could bear.

“Out of the way!” she snapped. “Back to your posts. Immediately.”

Hours later, it would occur to her that such a display did not give off the air of calm that she would have liked to affect in front of her subjects. But in that moment, watching the guards scatter at her order to reveal the cell behind them, none of that mattered.

Lying on the ground was Hubert.

She was by his side in a heartbeat. The far wall of the cell was a mountain of rubble, partially covering Hubert’s legs. Piles of stone were heaped to the left - it seemed the guards had been working at digging him out before she ordered them away. His face, when she dragged him out and turned him towards her, was covered in thousands of small cuts. Shrapnel dusted his hair like snow.

Most puzzling of all, he was missing his cloak.

“Hubert.” She checked his breathing. It was regular enough, considering. She patted his cheek. Now that the suspense was over, her hand was shaking. “Hubert. What happened?”

His eyes cracked open, just a sliver. “...Lady Edelgard?”

“Hubert!” She couldn’t help how choked she sounded. Not that it mattered - it was just her and Hubert, after all. “What happened?” she repeated. “And...” For the first time, her mind moved away from the man in front of her. She scanned the empty cell. “...where is Ferdinand?” He wouldn’t have just left... would he? Unless... the pile of rubble...

“I missed,” Hubert said.

Her attention snapped back. “I’m sorry?”

“I was going to kill him. As we agreed.” He coughed, sitting up and shaking a cloud of powdered stone out of his bangs and into the air. “But my spell missed. He got out before the wall collapsed.”

“You missed.”

He held her gaze, as even and steady as could be expected from a man in his state. “Yes.”

“Even though this cell is hardly bigger than a broom closet.”

“Yes.”

Never mind that he would never have made such an error, or that he hardly ever missed a shot from ten times this distance. Even with his ridiculous story, he wasn’t cracking. He spoke with the smoothness and certainty of a man with nothing to hide.

She would expect nothing less from such a practiced liar.

“Must I remind you that deceiving your emperor is treason?”

That made him smile. Just a bit. “You’ve let me get away with much worse.”

“What happened, Hubert?”

The smile disappeared. His eyes slid away from hers, down to the floor. “He escaped.”

“Because...?”

“Because I let him go.”

“And you didn’t go with him?”

He paused. “No. I pushed him through right before the wall collapsed.”

“...I see.”

At first, he looked like he might continue. Then, like he was waiting for her to continue. Then, they both went silent.

Under her fingers, his skin was clammy. She draped her shawl around him.

“Lady Edelgard -”

“Hush.”

He hushed.

She leaned against the nearest wall, the cold thrilling up her exposed back. “So, what’s your next step?”

“I didn’t plan this far ahead.”

She frowned, tilting her head towards him. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

“That is unlike you, Hubert.”

He didn’t respond.

“If he inspired you to act so rashly, you must really like him.”

His lips pursed. Still, he remained silent.

This next part was hard to get out. She hoped it didn’t show. “Do you want to go with him?”

There was a catch in his breath, which would have been imperceptible, had she not known him all her life. “I can’t.”

“But do you _ want _ to?”

Finally, he looked back up at her. There was a pleading look in his eyes, one that she’d never seen on him before.

Every word felt like another piece of her chest hollowing out. “Speak, Hubert.”

He looked like he was tearing himself in two trying to say what they both already knew. He’d lowered his face again, shawl pulled tight against his shoulders, eyes screwed shut. “...yes.”

Edelgard was glad he wasn’t looking at her; though she’d known it was coming - had insisted he say it, even - she found it difficult to keep her expression under control. It felt like she’d been struck, emptied out, ripped open and exposed to the cold, wet, miserable dungeon air.

“Then you should go after him.” Her throat ached with the effort of keeping her voice steady.

Hubert swung to face her. So much moved across his expression in that one second: confusion, hurt, fear, alarm. And, buried under it all, hope. “I can’t,” he repeated.

“Why not?”

“I promised you I would stay by your side. After all” - his lips twisted into something just shy of a smile - “what is a queen without her bishop?”

At that, something in her snapped. “You are not a damned chess piece!” she said, before it could be bit back. Why was he making this so hard? She could feel the block in her throat, the pressure building behind her eyes. She couldn’t bear this for much longer. “You are a _ person, _ Hubert, and my dearest friend. For years, you have given everything for me - _ everything. _ But I’m emperor now. I have an iron grip on my court and an inner circle I trust with my life. You are no longer my sole protector, nor do you need to be.” She shifted off the wall, onto her knees on the floor in front of Hubert. Cupped his cheek in her hand. “Hubert. I release you of that burden.”

He could not have looked any more sticken had she slapped him. “You’re… dismissing me?”

“I’m releasing you.”

“Of a burden,” he said, bitterly. “Is that how you think I’ve viewed being in your service all these years? As a burden?”

“Never, Hubert. I know you would never think of it that way.” Her voice broke on the second ‘never’, and Hubert looked like he’d been gutted. She hated that; she didn’t want the grief slipping through the cracks in her mask to hurt him, to affect his decision in any way. “But it is. You keep helping me live _ my _ life, and you’ve never once made time to live your own!” A single, damning tear spilled down her cheek.

He reached up to thumb it away on instinct, and she caught his hand before he could.

“Don’t,” she said. She sniffled and wiped it away herself.

“You don’t want me to go,” he said.

“Of course I don’t, Hubert. I love you more than anything.” She gave him a watery smile. “But you still have to go after him.”

He hesitated, and she could feel him, in that second, blessedly, agonizingly, slipping out of her grasp. “I’ll miss you,” he said.

“I’ll miss you too.”

“We might never see each other again.”

She pulled in a shaky breath. “I know.”

It took him a moment, but he finally stood, pulling her up with him. “I… I suppose I should go, then.”

He tried to give her back the red shawl, but she stopped him. “It’s cold out there,” she said. “And you seem to have misplaced your cloak.” She smoothed out the shoulders, watching the fantastical silver procession fall into line over his chest. “Keep it safe for me. Okay?”

* * *

The streets were quiet as Hubert set out on his search, save for the pattering of rain on cobblestones. Many turns down the winding streets lay the market, but the echoes of its clamor barely reached this sector. Here, there were only noble houses, empty while their occupants spent spring in the countryside, or else empty for other, more permanent reasons.

Most doors on this street were locked. But on the corner of the block was the old abandoned chapel. It had fallen into disrepair in the five years since the Empire had declared war on the church. Grass snarled over the graves in the churchyard and vines from the small garden crept up the sides of the building, even forcing their way through the windows in places. And all of the stone, from the outer walls to the cobble path, was overgrown with rain-slicked moss.

The church door had been boarded up long ago. But now the rotted boards lay scattered on the doorstep.

Stepping carefully over the cracked shards of wood, Hubert eased the door open. Its hinges groaned, the sound echoing off the walls and up to the high domed ceiling, before falling, dead, amidst the pews.

He slipped through, closing the door with as much delicacy as he could. There was no sign of Ferdinand in the main room, but the door to the pastor’s office was slightly ajar. The tap of his heels against stone was so loud that he felt no need to announce himself as he entered the smaller room.

A stick swung towards him, stopping just short of his face. Up this close, Hubert could see the detailing in the wood: it was heavy, but ornate. It had likely once belonged to the arm of a chair.

“Hubert!” Ferdinand cried, lowering the chair arm. “You startled me.”

“I can see that,” he said, watching him place it on the pastor’s desk with a solid _ thunk. _ It would have hurt. “Why are you here? I told you to run.”

Ferdinand sighed. “You did. But, well...” He pulled Hubert’s dampened cloak closer around him, looking out the pastor’s window. It was one of the windows that had shattered under the insistent press of the garden vines, letting in the cold along with a flurry of leaves and delicate white flowers. Diffuse blue light washed over Ferdinand’s face. It seemed to drain him of all his vibrant color, skin void of his natural rosy flush, auburn hair tamped down into a soggy, dull brown. “Even without this damnable rain, I fear my leg would not have held out for much longer.” Ferdinand turned to Hubert, then. “I did not expect to see you again so soon. Did you change your mind about letting me go?”

“No.”

He was fixed with a strange look, all furrowed brows and pursed lips. But Ferdinand recovered quickly. He seated himself on top of the pastor’s desk, stretching his leg out beside him and gesturing for Hubert to take the chair in front of it. “Sit with me, then. At least until we have both dried off.”

Hubert obliged, the old chair sagging dangerously under his weight. Sitting here, in this room, Ferdinand sitting above him, he allowed himself a soft chuckle.

Ferdinand pulled a knee up under his chin, a confused smile on his lips. “What?” he asked.

“I was just thinking how long it’s been since I sat in this chair.”

“You attended this church?”

“When I was young. I spent many afternoons in this room.” It had always been stuffy, the air thick with incense.

Ferdinand’s smile turned bemused. “You did not strike me as the kind to seek out individual guidance.”

“Oh, it wasn’t voluntary. There was never a shortage of things that the priest and my father found troubling about me.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

Hubert waved his hand dismissively. “They’re both dead now; I suppose they had good reason to be worried.”

At that, Ferdinand blanched. Hubert supposed, upon reflection, that it was a bit of a grim anecdote. He tried again, praying he wasn’t digging himself deeper. “I like it like this, though. It’s quiet, the air is fresh…” His eyes dropped down into his lap. “And you’re here. Which is an improvement.”

He looked up just in time to see Ferdinand cast his own gaze downwards. A couple strands of hair fell from behind his ear, tangled in unruly waves and still dripping steadily from the rain.

Quietly, almost too soft to hear, Ferdinand asked, “Why are you here, Hubert? I thought we were to part ways.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Ferdinand turned towards him sharply. There was an unmistakable flame of joy in his eyes, though it was quickly smothered. “You can’t,” he said, simply.

“Can’t I?”

“No.” He swung his legs off the desk, leaning forward and looking Hubert intently in the eyes. “No, Hubert. I know how much Edelgard means to you. I would not make you leave her side, no matter how much I -”

Hubert surged to his feet, face inches from Ferdinand’s before he even knew what he was doing. “Do _ not,” _ he said, some unfamiliar emotion rising in his throat like bile, strangling him. “Do _ not _send me away. Not you too.”

Ferdinand’s mouth opened, then closed.

“I care for you, Ferdinand,” he said, bringing up a cold hand to cup Ferdinand’s cold cheek. “More than I thought was possible. I am not here because I feel some obligation to you, or because you’ve forced me into anything. I’m here because I have spent five years missing you. And I _ will _be coming with you, because I refuse to spend the next five years the same way.”

His eyes were wide as the moon. “Hubert…” he said, more breath than word.

There was something about the way his mouth was open, just barely, or maybe the sight of him so close, that had Hubert leaning in. His thumb brushed upwards, dragging up his chin, over his lips, then gliding along Ferdinand’s cheekbone until his hand rested on the nape of his neck. He pressed Ferdinand closer, watching as his eyes went wide, then lidded, then closed as they finally came together.

Ferdinand’s lips were cool beneath Hubert’s, the tip of his nose freezing, his hair a brambled mess that caught at Hubert’s fingers and held them in place. But his breath was warm, and the feel of hands on Hubert’s back was feather-light, yet insistent, the way one would hold a wild animal, or delicate porcelain. “I missed you,” he murmured, and Hubert felt the vibration of the words on his lips. “More than I can ever say.”

“I’m here now.” He brushed some hair away from Ferdinand’s eyes. “And I’m not leaving you. Not ever again.”

Ferdinand huffed out a laugh, so close that it warmed Hubert’s face all the way to his cheeks, before pulling back to look at him. His eyes were drawn, concerned. “Are you sure about this, Hubert? I do not want to make you give everything up. Not for me. Not after all that you have already done.”

He gave Ferdinand a look of mock disdain. “Were you not listening? You can’t _ make _ me do anything. The decision to stay at your side is mine, and mine alone. You can’t get rid of me. So stop trying to.”

For a moment, he seemed stunned. Then, he broke out into a smile, small but bright, just like he’d done so often during their time at the academy. Hubert’s chest swelled, the longing of years lifting away. Ferdinand wrapped his arms around Hubert’s shoulders, looking up at him, the smile still ghosting on his lips. “Together, then?”

“Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sidenote you thought i was done with wicked stuff but im not. pls read the edelgard scene but with the quiet "i hope youre happy / now that youre choosing this" "you too" "i hope it brings you bliss" bit from defying gravity playing in your brain please and thank u)
> 
> anyways thank you all for sticking with me for...! six whole months?? absolutely wild. this is like the longest thing ive ever finished and i am just So grateful for all your comments and kudos and support and!! i love you all thank you!!!!!


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